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SECTION IV. 

LITERARY CRITICISM AND 
- CRITICAL THEORY 



GENERAL EDITOR 

CHARLES HAROLD HERFORD, Litt.D. 

PROFESSOR OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE 
UNIVERSITY OF MANCHESTER 



ESSAYS 
AND CRITICISMS 



BY 

THOMAS GRAY 

n 



EDITED WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES 
BY 

CLARK SUTHERLAND NORTHUP, Ph.D. 

I 

ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND 
LITERATURE IN CORNELL UNIVERSITY 



BOSTON, U.S.A., AND LONDON 

D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS 



COPYRIGHT, 191 1, BY D. C. HEATH & CO. 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



\i' 



To 

JAMES MORGAN HART 

TEACHER AND FRIEND 



pvdact 



The present volume is, I believe, the first entirely de- 
voted to Gray's critical prose. Editions of his poetry are 
numerous} and it has been generally assumed that he was 
chiefly a poet. The slender collection of poems, however, 
was not the only product, possibly not the chief product, 
of Gray's intellectual life. It is idle, of course, to discuss 
the comparative worth of creative and critical effort j it 
is worth while, however, in this age, to emphasize the 
necessity of sound criticism and to insist on the high value 
of Gray' s contribution, slight as it was in quantity, to the 
critical thought of his time. 

I have endeavored to present an accurate text; but as 
the volume is intended for general as well as scholarly use, 
I have modernized the spelling and punctuation, indicat- 
ing in the notes Gray's few peculiar spellings, when the 
peculiarity seemed worthy of attention. Little is gained by 
retaining, in a text like this, the outworn spellings of a by- 
gone age; while much may be said in favor of uniformity, 
even though that involves the use of some forms that we 
do not like. All the footnotes are Gray's own. My notes 
are gathered at the end of the text. 

It remains to express my obligations to Professor Her- 
ford for his courtesies in connection with the preparation 
of the book. To Professor Martin W. Sampson I am 
indebted for his kindness in reading the introduction in 
manuscript. My debt to my predecessors, especially Pro- 
fessor Duncan C. Tovey, for the substance of many of the 
notes, will be obvious and is gratefully acknowledged. 

C. S. N. 

Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. , 
Ju/y, 1909. 



Contentis 



PAGE 

Preface vii 

Introduction xi 

I. The Life of Gray xi 

II. Gray's Productivity xxii 

Iir. His Position in the Development of Criticism . xxvii 

IV. His Qualifications as a Critic xxxv 

V. His Critical Works xxxix 

VI. Summary li 

VII. Bibliographical Note lii 

Ph^do (309) 3 

Essay on the Philosophy of Lord Boungbroke (309) . 7 

Essay on Norman Architecture (310) 1 3 

Observations on English Metre (312.) . .. . . 21 

The Measures of Verse (314) 39 

Observations ON THE Pseudo-Rhythmus (317) ... 57 

Some Observations on the Use of Rhyme (320) . , 73 
Additional Observations and Conjectures on Rhyme 

(3") 80 

Some Remarks on the Poems of John Lydgate (323) . 87 

Samuel Daniel (325) 118 

Selections from the Letters (326) 122 

Notes 309 

Index 367 



SInttoDuctton 



I . THE LIFE OF GRAY 

Thomas Gray, one of the most eminent men of let- 
ters of his time, was born in Cornhill, London, on 
December 26, 17 16, the son of Philip and Dorothy 
Antrobus Gray. He was the fifth of twelve children; 
all the others died in infkncy. His father, a well-to-do 
merchant, was extremely eccentric, not to say brutal, 
and was probably insane. He refused to educate the 
lad, and the expense of his education was borne by his 
mother, who with her sister Mary **kept a kind of 
India warehouse." About 1727 Thomas Gray was 
sent to Eton College, where his uncle Robert Antrobus 
was assistant to Dr. George, the principal. At Eton 
Gray formed lasting friendships with Horace Walpole, 
son of the Prime Minister ; Richard West, son of the 
Lord Chancellor of Ireland; and Thomas Ashton, nick- 
named ** Plato.'* The four formed what they called 
** the Quadruple Alliance," ' which produced at least 
the interesting letters collected by Mr. Tovey in Gray 
and His Friends. 

After seven years of Eton, Gray was ready for the 
university. Robert Antrobus was a fellow of Peterhouse, 
Cambridge, and his younger brother Thomas was a fel- 
low of King's College. It was natural, therefore, that 
their nephew should proceed to Cambridge; thither 
* H. Walpole, Letters, ed. Mrs. Toynbee, i. 10, 20. 



xii 3IntroUuction 

Thomas Gray went in 1734, and after a short stay at 
Pembroke Hall, he became on July 3 a pensioner of 
Peterhouse, The curriculum, especially the mathemat- 
ical part, did not appeal to him, and he soon decided 
(^Letters y ed. Tovey, i. 3 ) not to take a degree. He was 
not athletic; he had no exercise; and he was by some 
considered effeminate, partly because he drank tea for 
breakfast while others for the most part drank beer. 
Melancholy early "marked him for her own*'; and 
the dulness of life never ceased to weigh on his spirits.' 
But he was constantly — doubtless too constantly — 
busy, with his reading of the Latin, Greek, and Italian 
authors. He became familiar with Ovid, Horace, and 
Livy. He wrote Richard West (May 8, 1736) that he 
had been having a game at quoits with Statius. He read 
Virgil under a venerable beech on his uncle's estate at 
Burnham ; in a Latin letter to West he quotes Lucre- 
tius, Poseidippus, and Homer. He was an ardent Greek 
scholar at a time when interest in Greek studies at 
Cambridge was at a low ebb. 

Gray left Cambridge in September, 1738, and after 
staying for a time at his father's house, accepted Horace 
Walpole's invitation ^ to join him in a tour of the Con- 
tinent. Leaving Dover on March 29, 1739, ^^^ ^^° 
men spent two months in Paris, three in Rheims, and 
two at Lyons. Gray's letters to his father and mother 
reveal a mind alert, sensitive, and unconventional. At 
a time when men were only repelled by the ** horrors " 

* See his Letters, ed. Tovey, i. i, 3, 6, 9, 95, 103, 196, 281, 
30i> 334, 34S, »• ^t, 14, ^3, ^4, 26, 36, 48, 54, 165; Works, 
ed. Gosse, iii. 167, 181, 240, 261, etc. 

* Cf. Walpole, Letters, ed. Mrs. Toynbee, viii. 259. 



JllntroDttCtion xiii 

of Alpine travel, he writes to West of his journey up to 
the Grande Chartreuse : ** There are certain scenes that 
would awe an atheist into belief." Crossing the Alps, 
Gray and Walpole visited Turin, Genoa, which Gray 
thought **a charming place," and Bologna, arriving 
at Florence about the middle of December. Here Gray 
began his De Principiis Cogitandi. In the spring they 
visited Siena, Rome, and Naples, returning to Florence 
in July. At Reggio a quarrel occurred between the two 
travelers, occasioned probably by Walpole' s somewhat 
supercilious treatment of his sensitive companion; ^ and 
the two parted. Gray returned home by way of Padua, 
Verona, Milan, Turin, and Lyons, visiting a second 
time the Grande Chartreuse and writing in the album 
his ode O tu severi relligio loci. Two months after his 
return, on November 6, 1741, his father died of gout. 
About a year later his mother and aunt went to West 
End, Stoke Pogis, to live with their recently widowed 
sister Mrs. Rogers. 

The year 1742 is memorable in Gray's life for his 
prolific composition of English verse. He began with 
a tragedy, Agrippina^ inspired by Racine ; but receiving 
frankly hostile criticism from his friend West, he aban- 
doned it. At Stoke Pogis, in June, i 742, he wrote his 
Ode to Spring. In August he wrote his touching sonnet 
on the death of West; his Ode on a Distant Prospect 
of Eton College ; and his Hymn to Adversity. In the 
autumn, too, he began the Elegy y which was to lie un- 

* See Tovey, Gray and His Friendsy pp. 5—12, and Walpole's 
letter to Mason, March 2, 1773, in his Letters, ed. Mrs. Toynbee, 
viii. 245 f. 



xiv 3|ntroi5ttction 

finished for seven years. Truly, had physical energy 
and ambition combined to spur on the young poet, this 
year had been an auspicious beginning of a great poet- 
ical career. 

The next six years of Gray's life, however, were to 
be devoted not to composition but to study. After his 
father's death, supposing his means to be ample. Gray 
had begun to read law in London ; but the condition 
of the family finances after the death of his uncle Jon- 
athan Rogers (in October, 1742) made it impossible 
to go on with the study of law. So he returned in the 
winter of 1742 to Peterhouse, and taking his degree of 
LL.B. in 1744,^ settled down as a permanent resident 
of the college. The Greek authors claimed his attention, 
and he read widely and carefully, making notes on Plato, 
Aristotle, Strabo, Aristophanes, the Anthologyy etc., and 
projecting editions of some of these writers. During 
these years he saw little of Cambridge society, for which 
he had a certain contempt ; ^ but he made occasional 
journeys to London. Through the mediation of **a 
Lady who wished well to both parties,*' in November, 
1 745,3 he became reconciled to Walpole, and thereafter 
saw him frequently. He seems also to have known 
Pope (this is implied in his letter to Walpole, February 
3, 1746) ; and he is said to have met Hogarth at a 
dinner given by Walpole. In 1748 he began a philo- 
sophical poem on The Alliance of Education and Govern- 
ment. He explained to Wharton that he intended to 

^ Cf. Letter Sy ed. Tovey, 1. 113, n. i. 

' See his Hymn to Ignorance^ written in 1742 or 1743. 

' Cf. Letter iy ed. Tovey, i. 124, and n. a. 



3[lntroUuction xv 

show that education and government ** must necessarily 
concur to produce great and useful Men." ' But when 
Montesquieu's V esprit des lots appeared in 1 749, Gray 
found that the French author had anticipated some of 
his best thoughts, and losing interest in his poem, soon 
ceased work upon it. 

The death of his aunt Mary Antrobus, on Novem- 
ber 5, 1749, seems to have induced Gray to take up his 
^/f^^ again; and at length, on June 12, 1750, he fin- 
ished it and sent it to Walpole. In this place criticism of 
the now classic poem is entirely superfluous. It is inter- 
esting, to those who love dates, to note that the Elegy 
in a Country Churchyard was finished exactly a cen- 
tury before the publication of In Memorianiy and that 
even Tennyson himself, though he strove to express uni- 
versal feeling about death, did not succeed in coming so 
near the heart of mankind and in saying so exquisitely 
what the living ever think in regard to the dead. Re- 
cluse though he might be, the man who could write the 
Elegy had not lost his humanity. On February 16, 
1 7 5 I , the Elegy was published in a large quarto pam- 
phlet and was immediately and prodigiously successful. 

While still in manuscript the Elegy had been read by 
Lady Cobham, Gray's neighbor at Stoke, who sent her 
guest Lady Schaub and her niece Miss Harriet Speed* 
to call on the poet. The incidents of this call and the 
one Gray made in return form the material of the amus- 
ing jeu d"* esprit entitled A Long Story, which Gray 
wrote in the autumn. 

* Letters^ ed. Tovey, i. 192. 

* Cf. Letter Sf ed. Tovey, i. 351, n. 3. 



xvi BlntroDttction 

Probably at Horace Walpole's suggestion, Richard 
Bentley, son of the Master of Trinity, made several 
illustrations for the poems of Gray, which Dodsley pub- 
lished in February, 1753, under the title o( Designs by 
Mr, R. Bent ley for Six Poems by Mr. T. Gray. The 
engraving, which was of a high order, was done by 
John Sebastian Miiller and Charles Grignion. 

On March 15, 1753, Gray's mother died at Stoke, 
at the age of sixty -seven. In the inscription which he 
placed on her tomb. Gray speaks of her as **the care- 
ful tender mother of many children, one of whom alone 
had the misfortune to survive her. ' ' This tribute, beauti- 
ful in itself, well indicates the depth of Gray's devotion 
to his mother; and read in the light of other remarks of 
his, it may be regarded as more than a merely conven- 
tional expression of his deep-seated despondency. 

At the death of his mother. Gray came into posses- 
sion of the remainder of the small fortune left by his 
father, part of which had already fallen to him ; and his 
income now sufficed to meet the needs of his simple 
habits of life. Though he was not rich, the poet never 
had to work for his living, and even scorned to receive 
pay for his writing. 

To the following year, 1754, belongs the incom- 
plete Ode on Vicissitude , which was found after Gray's 
death in a diary of that year ; and to the same year 
Mr. Gosse assigns the Essay on Norman Architecture. 
More certain is it that at the end of this year Gray 
began the Pindaric odes. The Progress of Poesy was 
sent on December 26 to Wharton. The Bard occu- 
pied much of his time in the following year, but in the 



31ntrolittction xvii 

autumn was laid aside, and was not completed till three 
years later. 

An important event of 1756 in Gray*s quiet life 
was his removal to Pembroke College, to which he was 
admitted as a resident on March 6. The cause of his 
leaving Peterhouse was apparently some rudeness on 
the part of the younger inmates of the college; there is 
no good authority, however, for the story that he was 
induced to descend his rope-ladder into a tub of water. ' 

The publication of the two Pindaric odes by Dods- 
ley in the summer of 1757 gave Gray a wide reputation 
as the greatest living poet of England. On the death 
of Colley Gibber (December 12, 1757), he was of- 
fered the laureateship by the Duke of Devonshire, then 
Lord Chamberlain, but declined the honor. * * The office 
itself," he wrote to Mason, **has always humbled the 
professor hitherto (even in an age when kings were some- 
body), if he were a poor writer by making him more 
conspicuous, and if he were a good one by setting him 
at war with the little fry of his own profession." 

In the early part of 1758 Gray made an antiqua- 
rian and architectural tour in the Fen country, visiting 
Ely, Peterborough, Croyland Abbey, Thorney, Foth- 
eringay, etc. After this he staid for a time with Lord 
and Lady Cobham, and spent the month of July with 
Walpole at Strawberry Hill. Toward the end of the 
year his aunt, Mrs. Rogers, died, and after settling her 
estate he closed the house at Stoke Pogis and went to 

* See Lettersy ed. Tovey, i. 292, n. 3, ii. 304 ; G. L. Kit- 
tredge, "Gray's Ladder of Ropes," The Nation, Sept. 27, 1900, 
Ixxi. 251 ; Walpole, Lettersy ed. Mrs. Toynbec, viii. 444 f. 



xviii 31ntroDttction 

live in London, in order to read at the recently opened 
British Museum. Here he spent four hours a day, en- 
gaged especially in studies preparatory to writing his 
History of English Poetry. His friend Lady Cobham 
died in April, 1760, leaving her fortune of ^30,000 
to Miss Speed. It was rumored* that a match had been 
planned by her between her niece and Gray; but 
whether or not the rumor was well founded, the plan 
came to nothing ; Gray ** knew his own mind." * 

In June, 1 760, he writes to Wharton that he is gone 
mad over Macpherson*s translations from the Erse. 
In the celebrated Ossianic controversy we find Gray 
strongly inclined to believe in the genuineness of the 
fragments, but frankly admitting the difficulties that 
opposed this belief. He corresponded on the subject with 
Hume and Adam Smith. He began to take interest 
not only in Celtic (at least Gaelic and Welsh) but also 
in Norse literature ; and all of his own later poetry 
reflects the romantic impulse to which he now readily 
yielded. Evans's Specimens of Welsh Poetry (1764) is 
said to have supplied him with suggestions for his own 
fragments in verse that date from this period. 

Returning to Cambridge in November, 1761, Gray 
made his home at Pembroke during the remainder of 
his uneventful life. He took a deep interest in Norton 
Nicholls, then a student of Trinity Hall, later rector of 
Lound and Brad well, who became a warm friend and 

* See Gray's letter to Wharton, October 21, 1760, Letters^ ii. 
167 ; and cf. Miss Speed's letters to Gray, in Tovey's Gray and 
His Friends, pp. 197 ff. 

' Letters, ed. Tovey, ii. 143- 



31ntroUuction xix 

ardent admirer. His Reminiscences of Grayy though 
written more than thirty years after the poet's death, 
are of great value. Gray's health grew steadily worse, 
until in 1764 he was obliged to undergo a severe oper- 
ation,^ which restored him to health. The next year 
we find him traveling in northern England and in Scot- 
land, and delighted with the Gaelic songs and the sub- 
limity of the Highlands. Other summer hoUday tours 
were to Kent in 1766, to the Lakes in 1767 (a trip 
cut short by the illness of his companion, Wharton) and 
again in 1 769, and to Worcester, Gloucester, and South 
Wales m 1770. 

Of great significance were Gray's visits to the Lakes. 
His Journal in the Lakes, describing the journey of 
1769, is one of the first narratives in which the magni- 
ficent landscape of the Cumberland lakes is described 
with modern feeling and appreciation. Equipped with 
a Claude Lorraine glass. Gray passed slowly through 
the region, delighting in the changing colors of sky and 
cloud and water and in the noble lines of mountain 
and vale ; and then soberly and without hysteria recorded 
his impressions. Wordsworth, whom many credit with 
having ** discovered " the scenery of the English Lakes, 
only followed, in this respect, in the wake of Gray. 

In July, 1768, the chair of Modern History and 
Modern Languages at Cambridge, for which Gray had 
been an unsuccessful applicant in 1762, was offered to 
him by the Duke of Grafton and was accepted. Follow- 
ing the custom of his predecessors, he delivered no lec- 
^ Cf. JVorks, ed. Gosse, iii. 170; Myra Reynolds, The Treat- 
ment of Nature in English Poetry ^ I909) PP- ^^S-^SS- 



XX 3(lntrolmction 

tures ; he complied with the recommendation that the 
teaching of the languages be entrusted to a deputy, and 
employed Agostino Isola, later the editor of Tasso. In 
the following year, on the occasion of the installation of 
the Duke of Grafton as Chancellor of the University 
of Cambridge, Gray volunteered to write the Installation 
Ode. It was the last verse, apparently, that he wrote ; 
echoing Milton and Dryden, as a Cambridge ode might 
properly do, and containing some noble lines. 

The chief thing yet to be chronicled of Gray*s last 
years is his friendship for Charles Victor de Bonstetten, 
a young Swiss, son of the Treasurer of Berne, who was 
sent to Gray by Nicholls from Bath in November, 1 769. 
For nearly four months Bonstetten sat daily at the feet 
of Gray, reading the English classics and talking of his 
life and enthusiasms. When Bonstetten left England in 
March, 1770, he had secured Gray's promise to visit 
him in Switzerland the next summer. But Gray's health 
proved unequal to the effort. His strength and courage 
gradually declined until in May, 1771, he was attacked 
by gout of the stomach. He died on July 30, 1771, 
profoundly mourned by a small circle of friends who, 
in spite of his reserve and his isolation, had learned to 
love his noble and attractive nature.* 

In The London Magazine for March, 1772 (xli. 
140), appeared an estimate of Gray written by his friend 
William J. Temple, of Trinity Hall, Cambridge, in a 
letter to Boswell, and published by the latter without 

* Cf., for example, Walpole, Letters^ ed. Mrs. Toynbee, vHi. 
66 f., 72 f., 85 f. ; Norton Nicholls, quoted in Gosse's Gray^ pp. 
208 f. 



iflntroDuccton xxi 

authority. Temple' s remarks, quoted by both Mason and 
Johnson, are as follows : 

** Perhaps he was the most learned man in Europe. 
He was equally acquainted with the elegant and profound 
parts of science, and not superficially but thoroughly. 
He knew every branch of history, both natural and civil; 
had read all the original historians of England, France, 
and Italy ; and was a great antiquarian. Criticism, me- 
taphysicks, morals, politicks made a principal part of his 
plan of study; voyages and travels of all sorts were his 
favourite amusement ; and he had a fine taste in painting, 
prints, architecture, and gardening. With such a fund 
of knowledge, his conversation must have been equally 
instructing and entertaining; but he was also a good man, 
a well-bred man, a man of virtue and humanity. There 
is no character without some speck, some imperfection ; 
and I think the greatest defect in his was an affectation 
in delicacy, or rather effeminacy, and a visible fastidi- 
ousness, or contempt and disdain of his inferiors in 
science. He also had in some degree that weakness 
which disgusted Voltaire so much in Mr. Congreve : 
Though he seemed to value others, chiefly according to 
the progress they had made in knowledge ; yet he could 
not bear to be considered himself merely as a man of 
letters, and though without birth or fortune, or station, 
his desire was to be looked upon as a private independent 
gentleman, who read for his amusement. Perhaps it 
may be said, what signifies so much knowledge, when 
it produced so little ? Is it worth taking so much pains 
to leave no memorial but a few poems ? But let it be 
considered that Mr. Gray was to others, at least inno- 



xxii 3|ntroDuction 

cently employed ; to himself, certainly beneficially. His 
time passed agreeably ; he was every day making some 
new acquisition in science ; his mind was enlarged, his 
heart softened, his virtue strengthened ; the world and 
mankind were shewn to him without a mask ; and he 
was taught to consider every thing as trifling, and un- 
worthy of the attention of a wise man, except the pursuit 
of knowledge, and the practice of virtue, in that state 
wherein God hath placed us/* 

II. gray's productivity 
A good deal has been written on the subject of Gray's 
sterility. His poetry, interspersed with many notes, in 
Mr. Gosse's edition fills little more than two hundred 
small octavo pages ; his letters, about eight hundred 
pages ; and his other prose, a little over five hundred 
pages. For a life of fifty-five years almost exclusively de- 
voted to scholarly and literary pursuits, this is certainly 
not a large product. Several explanations of its small- 
ness have been offered. Matthew Arnold, writing es- 
pecially of Gray's poetical output, and echoing the Rev. 
James Brown, Master of Pembroke, says, **he never 
spoke out" ; he "fell upon an age of prose. " ** As re- 
gards literary production, the task of the eighteenth cen- 
tury in England was not the poetic interpretation of the 
world, its task was to create a plain, clear, straightfor- 
ward, efficient prose. Poetry obeyed the bent of mind 
requisite for the due fulfilment of this task of the cen- 
tury. It was intellectual, argumentative, ingenious ; not 
seeing things in their truth and beauty, not interpreta- 
tive. Gray, with the qualities of mind and soul of a genu- 



IdntroDuction xxiii 

ine poet, was isolated in his century. Maintaining and 
fortifying them by lofty studies, he yet could not fully 
educe and enjoy them ; the want of a genial atmosphere, 
the failure of sympathy in his contemporaries, were too 
great.'* It has been more than once pointed out^ that 
Arnold here shows less critical acumen than usual, and 
has indeed quite missed the truth of the matter. Gray 
was quite as much in sympathy with the age and had 
quite as many friends as would have been the case in 
the seventeenth or the nineteenth century. Had he 
lived a -century earlier or later he would doubtless have 
found more zeal for learning, and possibly, in the nine- 
teenth century, more wide-spread intelligence, with 
which he would have been delighted ; but he would have 
been perplexed by other things — the leaden weight of 
Puritanism, or the theological doubts of the troubled age 
of Arnold and Clough.^ Friends he had always, and 
their approbation was not withheld or stinted. 

Yet from one point of view there is doubtless truth 
in Arnold's highly elaborated dogma. Gray's compan- 
ions and friends were not of the kind adapted to stim- 
ulate his activity in either verse or prose. West, the one 
stimulating comrade of his youth, died in 1742, when 
Gray was twenty-six. Walpole, always a dilettante, was 
scarcely an inspired writer, except of letters, and be- 
sides, he and Gray gradually drifted apart. Of the 186 
letters ( 1 759-1 77 1 ) printed by Mr. Gosse in his third 

' See, for example, Phelps, Selections^ p. xviii ; Parrott, Studies 
of a Booklover^ p. 176 ; Saintsbury, A History of Criticism^ iii. 555 
Letters^ ed. Tovey, i. xxvii f. ; Lounsbury, The Nation^ xL 205 f. 

^ On this point see also Tovey, Gray and His Friends^ pp. 27-30. 



xxiv BlntroDuction 

volume, only six are to Walpole ; while of Walpole's 
1360 letters written before Gray's death, only seven 
are addressed to Gray. Of his other friends, Wharton 
was a busy physician; Conyers Middleton's theology 
repelled him ; Stonehewer, Chute, and James Brown 
were not productive. Mason, it is true, was exception- 
ally productive, but his work reacted on Gray's critical 
rather than his creative faculty. Gray's aversion to Cam- 
bridge society is well known. ** I converse with none 
but the dead here," he writes to Chute in 1742. Even 
had he been less averse to the society of the Cambridge 
dons, however, there were few (except Middleton, who 
died in 1750) whose conversation would have been 
especially suggestive or stimulating. 

Professor Phelps has sought for other causes of Gray's 
meagreness of output : his scholarly and critical tempera- 
ment, his lack of health, his abhorrence of publicity and 
popularity. Phelps's argument is answered by Professor 
Parrott, who, reasoning from analogy, doubts the ade- 
quacy of even this explanation, and who believes rather 
that Gray lacked the born poet's creative impulse as well 
as the capacity for profound reflection, for strong, lively, 
and passionate feeling, and for broad and deep sympa- 
thy. Professor Parrott argues forcibly and plausibly, and 
has well stated some points of the case. I am inclined 
to think, however, that he has not given us a wholly 
adequate explanation of the matter. 

Professor Phelps would seem to be warranted in say- 
ing that Gray's scholarly temperament had much to do" 
with his writing so little. The scholar's instinct in him 
was strong. He chose to continue living at Cambridge 



^Introduction xxv 

after taking his degree in law, partly, it is true, because 
living there was cheap, but mainly because there he had 
access to books and manuscripts. He took keen delight 
in reading. He planned editions of Greek classics. It 
is true that he did not complete them ; and the reason 
will be considered presently. That he undertook these 
studies merely to allay regret at not being able to write, 
or to drive away ennui, there is very little evidence. Nor 
can we think of Gray as selfish in devoting himself to 
the acquisition of knowledge which would benefit him- 
self alone. His plans for publishing books make against 
this view. An ardent apostle of Greek culture, he hoped, 
through better editions of his favorite authors, to spread 
the study of Greek literature. The effect of his steady and 
prolonged devotion to scholarship — and in this he may 
be likened to Darwin — was to dry up the poetic vein ; 
and in prose, moreover, aside from his letters, and his 
Journal in the Lakes, virtually a letter-diary, he seems 
to have produced little in his later years, certainly after 
1764. 

Another reason for his producing so little was his fas- 
tidious taste. He polished and repolished his verses. He 
rigorously excised lines that many another poet would 
have been proud to retain. ** He has left nothing fin- 
ished," wrote Walpole ^ to Sir Horace Mann after 
Gray's death; **in truth, he finished everything so 
highly, and laboured all his works so long, that I am 
the less surprised." There are indications, too, that he 
did not compose readily or fluently — probably for the 

* Letters, ed. Mrs. Toynbee, viii. 92. 



xxvi 3|ntrotiuctton 

same reason. He thus presents a striking contrast to his 
friend Mason, who was prolific but uncritical- 
Doubtless his reticence and shyness had something to 
do with his writing so little, though it is easy to make 
too much of this circumstance. * A lyric poet — and 
Gray's genius was essentially lyric — must express 
himself, his own nature ; must have felt what he utters. 
That Gray was capable of deep feeling — and here I 
must differ with Professor Parrott — is evident from sev- 
eral passages in his letters ; ^ yet he was chary about ex- 
pressing it, and indeed was singularly reticent in talking 
to others about himself. Bonstetten's failure to get the 
old poet to talk about his past life is well known. 

That Gray's health was for long periods (except in 
his later years ) so bad as to prevent or discourage au- 
thorship, we find in his letters very little evidence. He 
speaks frequently of low spirits, or melancholy; but there 
are also occasional remarks 3 about his improvement in 
health. In the greater number of the letters written in 
middle life, even in those written to intimate friends, 
there is no reference to his health. 

A stronger reason than ill health has not been too often 
dwelt on : namely, his inertia, or indolence. Not being 
obliged to write, he could not bring himself to do what 
required an effort. The consciousness of this defect 

' Cf. , for example, Mason's anecdote about unwittingly retarding 
The Progress of Poesy, Works, ed. Gosse, ii. no, n. i. 

'^ Cf. Letters, tA. Tovey, i. 44, iii, 203 f., 239, ii. 29, 143J 
TForks, ed. Gosse, iii. 265, 369. 

^ E. g., Letters, ed. Tovey, i. 33, 351, ii. 81, 187, 205, 209, 
2695 Works, ed. Gosse, iii. 170, 179, 258. 



31ntroJ)uction xxvii 

was probably a chief cause of that despondency, or depres- 
sion of spirits, of which he speaks many times, and which 
cannot have been entirely due to physical ill health. 

Finally, a lack of ambition doubtless combined with 
other circumstances to render Gray indifferent to fame. 
After all, Phoebus' reply to the shepherd friend of 
Lycidas was not exactly convincing. As he mused in 
the quiet churchyard. Gray thought how 

Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast 

The little tyrant of his fields withstood, 
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, 

Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood j 

and then, as in the Mason ms., thus advised himself: 

No more, with Reason and thyself at strife, 
Give anxious cares and endless wishes room j 

But thro' the cool sequester' d vale of life 
Pursue the silent tenour of thy doom. 

Gray's sense of humor prevented him from attaching too 
much importance to personal memorials. He was a 
spectator of life; he did not care to be a too active par- 
ticipant. He was content that the victors should have 
the spoils, 

III. HIS POSITION IN THE DEVELOPMENT OF CRITICISM 

The early years of the eighteenth century contributed 
little that was new or important to the science of liter- 
ary criticism. In this field, at least, the first half of the 
century was in general an era of orthodoxy. In his in- 
teresting thesis ^ on eighteenth century criticism, Paul 

^ Die Kritik in der engliscken Literatur des I'j, und i8, Jahr- 
AundertSj Liege these, Leipzig, 1897, pp. 69 f. 



xxviii 3|ncroDttccion 

Hamelius has shown that in the seventeenth century 
there rose in England four schools of critics, — the Ro- 
mantic, the Christian, the Neo-Classic, and the Rational- 
istic, — which by the end of the century had combined 
to form two schools. The first, the Romantic, with 
which the Christian combined, *' auf den asthetischen 
Grundlagen der Romantik eine christliche Literatur zu 
einrichten versuchte " ; it was represented by Steele and 
to some extent by Addison and Dennis. The second, 
the Neo-Classic, with which the Rationalists arrayed 
themselves, agreed with the first school in regarding 
morality as the source and aim of all literary activity; 
but it *<fasste die Moral nicht als ein Erzeugnis histori 
scher Bedingungen oder innerer Seelenvorgange, sondern 
als eine Schopfung der Vernunft auf, welche nicht 
schone Empfindungen, sondern eine niitzliche Einrich- 
tung des praktischen Lebens zum Zweck hat.** Of this 
school, which held the supremacy for many years after 
the death of Dryden, the champions were Pope and 
Shaftesbury. It is not to be supposed, of course, that 
these schools were always sharply distinguished. All 
critics looked with reverence upon the critical work of 
Dryden, whom Johnson calls **the father of English 
criticism " ; ^ and he may be ranged now on the one 
side, now on the other, though the general temper of his 
criticism is Romantic. ^ 

The Neo-Classic creed, which had been gradually 
evolved in the course of the previous century, 3 was 

* Lives of the Poets, ed. Hill, i. 410. 
^ Hamelius, p. 185. 

^ Cf. F. E. Schelling, ** Ben Jonson and the Classical School," 
Pub. M. L. Ass''ny xiii. 221-249. 



^Introduction xxix 

based upon the ancient critics, especially Aristotle and 
Horace, though they were frequently misunderstood or 
credited with views they never upheld. The tragic 
drama, properly unified with reference to time, place, 
and action, and the heroic poem, duly accredited with 
fable, epic unity, and machines for the intervention of 
gods, angels, and the Hke, became the supreme types 
or kinds of literature. ^ Shakespeare and Milton, when 
they had the good fortune to please the critic, gave 
pleasure chiefly because they exemplified the precepts 
of the great Greek and Roman critics. But Shakespeare 
and Milton, it was thought, frequently violated the 
fimdamental laws of art. According to Dennis, Shake- 
speare showed a want of art, and failed to mete out poet 
ical justice. 2 For Addison, Shakespeare's style is often 
marred by ** sounding phrases, hard metaphors, and 
forced expressions "; 3 likewise Milton's language **is 
often too much labored, and sometimes obscured by old 
words, transpositions, and foreign idioms. "4 Swift was 
not alone in wanting to correct and fix the English 
tongue, s so that an unalterable standard of Ciceronian 
eloquence for English might be established and main- 

' On tragedy, cf. The Spectator^ Nos. 39, 40, 42, 44; on the 
epic, id. Nos. 267, 273, 291, 297, 315. 

^ See On the Genius and Writings of Shakespear (17 11), re- 
printed by D. Nichol Smith in his Eighteenth Century Essays on 
Shakespeare^ 1903, pp. 24 ff. 

^ The Spectator^ No. 39, April 14, 1 711, quoted also by Saints- 
bury, ^ History of Criticism, ii. 441 f. 

* The Spectator, "No. 297, Feb. 9, 1712. 

^ See j4 Proposal for Correcting, Improving, and Ascertaining 
the English Tongue, 171 2. 



XXX 3|ntroUttction 

I 

tained. Pope's celebrated Essay on Criticism (171 1)," 
as Saintsbury has said/ is little more than an echo of 
Horace, Boileau, and Vida. Pope counseled the writer 
to follow ** Nature," but it was a Nature perfectly 
correct and proper according to the standards of the 
London critics. Just as Pope is the last great poet of the 
Neo- Classic school, so his criticism dominated the first 
decades of the eighteenth century, and summed up the 
leading ideas of the Neo- Classic creed. The watchword 
of this creed was correctness; its text-book, one might 
say, was Edward Bysshe's jirt of English Poetry 
(1702), with its rigorous and business-like rules, ig- 
noring (for example) or condemning dactylic movements 
altogether, and providing collections of ** beauties** 
for imitation. Originality, inspiration, genius counted for 
little. 

But even before the eighteenth century began, the 
note of a revolt can be clearly heard. To this revolt 
Professor Saintsbury has given the suggestive name of 
"The Nemesis of Correctness.** There is no apparent 
cessation of homage at the shrine of antiquity; but in the 
writings of Steele and Addison this worship of Aristotle 
and Quintilian is unconsciously tempered by good taste 
and a desire for freer and more general discussion of lit- 
erary art. Non -classical works, such as the Bible and the 
early ballads, begin to be discussed and are discovered 
to have elements of beauty. Addison * justifies the in- 
troduction of fairies and demons into poetry, even 

^ Cf. his History of Criticism, ii. 455. 

2 "The Fairy Way of Writing," The Spectator, No. 419, 
July I, 1 712. 



3|ntroOuction xxxi 

though it violate the canons of "Nature methodized"; 
and ventures to approve of blank verse for epic poetry. 
In landscape, too. Nature, it is found, does not have to 
be much "helped and regulated,'* to give pleasure. 
Addison admires Versailles, but prefers Fontainebleau, 
** situated among rocks and viroods, that give you a fine 
variety of savage prospects. ' ' i 

At the time when Thomas Gray began to read poetry 
and criticism, the points of dispute betw^een the two 
schools had become clearly formulated. ^ The poet 
should follow Nature, indeed; but how should Na- 
ture be 'defined ? Should imitation be confined to the 
ancients ? What was the value of poetic justice ? Was 
"the fairy way of writing " justifiable? Should tragedy 
and comedy be separated ? Was the use of blank verse 
immoral ? Could the lyric and epic styles be mixed ? 
Such questions continued to be discussed throughout 
Gray's lifetime. 

In estimating Gray as a critic it must be borne in 
mind that he made no pretense to critical acumen. 
"You know I do not love, much less pique myself, on 
criticism," he writes to Mason, in January, 1758, 
"and think even a bad verse as good a thing or better 
than the best observation that ever was made upon it." 
His own critical utterances were all published posthum- 
ously, and much of the text in the present volume was 
doubtless written without thought of publication. If 

* The Guardian^ No. loi, July 7, 171 3. But these "savage 
prospects ' ' differ widely from those Addison saw in the Alps and 
the Apennines. 

* The situation is well described by Hamelius, p. 140. 



xxxii 3|ntroUuction 

his criticism is important, then, it is so in spite of any 
ambition cherished by its author, who would doubtless i 
be greatly surprised if he could now return and learn > 
of his reputation as a critic. 

Professor Phelps, in his Selections from Gray, p. 
xxii, says of him: ** Beginning as a classicist and dis- 
ciple of Dryden, he ended in thorough-going Roman- 
ticism.'* Phelps is probably thinking of Gray's poetry; 
some of his earlier pieces are certainly conventional 
enough in both style and thought. But his critical utter- 
ances at any time show Httle inclination toward the 
classical school. From the first we are aware of an in- 
dependence of thought and tone and a freedom from 
conventional cant, which point toward the coming and 
early disappearance of the old standards of taste. From 
the first, his criticism was of the independent. Roman- 
tic order. He was only twenty-three when he wrote 
to West the celebrated passage referring to the Alps, 
** Not a precipice, not a torrent, not a cliff, but is 
pregnant with religion and poetry." At twenty-six we 
find him saying that *'the language of the age is never 
the language of poetry; except among the French, 
whose verse, where the thought or image does not 
support it, differs in nothing from prose." Further on 
in the same letter he pays a tribute to the creative gen- 
ius of Shakespeare and Milton, manifested in enriching 
our language with borrowed or coined words, and 
complains of the degeneracy of English. This is only 
another way of saying that the vocabulary of the Neo- 
Classic poets was worn out and could no longer stimu- 
late the imagination or give pleasure. Gray, then, can 



31ntrot)uction xxxiii 

scarcely be said to have been, on principle, a classicist. 
Although some of his earlier verses conform to the 
conventional form,' his sympathies were w^ith the inde- 
pendents, who knew that poetic diction must grow and 
that poetic structure can no more be held in by rules 
than can a spring freshet. 

Gray is not one of those who have left a large body 
of criticism. He set down no elaborate theory of poetry 
or prose; he did not attempt to bring Aristotle or Hor- 
ace **up to date." What he did was, in his letters, 
to express himself, often casually, and rarely at any 
length, about writers chiefly contemporary; and in his 
other pieces, to estimate men and movements — in liter- 
ature, painting, architecture, theology, and so on — 
with the illuminating common sense of a trained and 
unbiased scholar. Probably his general cautiousness 
would have sufficed to prevent him from making many 
generalizations about our early literature; but it must 
also be remembered that much of this literature was 
not easily accessible, indeed, had not yet been printed, 
and that to obtain any wide acquaintance with it from 
manuscripts would at that time have been impossible. 
Now it happens that Gray was especially interested in 
this literature — in Lydgate, Gawin Douglas, Chaucer 
. — and gave much time to these authors; with his own 
hand he copied The Pa lice of Honour entire. ^ Realiz- 

* It may be noted that of his poems only the following employ 
the heroic couplet : The Alliance of Education and Government^ 
1748; Epitaph on a Child, 1758; Comic Lines, 1768; Couplet 
about Birds ; Tophet ; — all the above being posthumously published j 
and the six passages translated from Statius, Tasso, and Propertius. 

* Gosse, Gray, p. 151. 



xxxiv 3lntroDuction 

ing to some extent the vastness of the field, and feeling ; 
himself but a beginner and a pioneer. Gray, in his 
utterances on these writers and on subjects connected 
with them, speaks always with the air of a learner 
rather than with that of an expert or authority ; and 
assuming this attitude ' and thus teaching others to as- 
sume it was not the least of his services to literary 
criticism. 

We must not, then, look upon Gray as a protagon- 
ist in the conflicts of criticism. Yet his chance re- 
marks have a permanent value as coming from an 
ardent scholar and a sympathetic reader. His whole 
attitude toward letters served to emphasize the import- 
ance to criticism of a sound basis in scholarship and of 
openness of mind and heart. In general, Arnold's de- 
finition of criticism would have suited him; would that 
he had had more of Arnold's militant ardor in making 
known what he considered the best that had been 
thought and written! 

Gray holds a high place among the critics of his 
time partly because of his scholarship. Coming mid- 
way between Bentley and Porson (he was twenty-five 
when Bentley died and forty-three when Porson was 
born), he bridges the gap between these great lights 
of Trinity College; and what is more important, his 
deep interest in Greek studies may be said to herald 
the dawn of the modern study of Greek literature; 
with language studies for their own sake Gray was 
not especially concerned. The study of Greek was 

* Cf. Saintsbury, A History of Criticism^ iii. 63. 



31ntroiiuction xxxv 

to do much to break down the narrow prejudices of 
the Neo- Classic creed; hence the importance of Gray's 
scholarly work and ambitions. His interest, too, in 
kindred studies — history and archeology, the Celtic 
and Scandinavian literatures — is significant of the 
growing desire to understand the past more fully, to 
sit at its feet and learn. 

IV. HIS QUALIFICATIONS AS A CRITIC 

Let us now see what were the qualities of Gray which 
fitted or unfitted him for the tasks of criticism. We have 
long heard that the fundamental quality of the true critic 
is that he is wholly disinterested, has no ax to grind. 
Surely this was true of Gray. We never find him wed- 
ded to a theory ; he is never blinded by the brilliance 
of a particular meteor or comet ; he scans the heavens 
steadily ; and the differing magnitudes of the stars are 
evident to him. He knows all the stars of the first mag- 
nitude — Homer, Dante, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Mil- 
ton — though Homer and Milton, he thinks, have 
some high-sounding words that mean little. Lydgate is 
ranked far below his master Chaucer, but is not denied 
some important merits. If Gray gave the reins to his 
admiration of any one, it was Dryden, whose sanity 
and clearness of judgment appealed to Gray's kindred 
temperament ; yet he writes to Mason (December 19, 
1757) that Dryden' s character disgraced the laureate- 
ship. Gray' s dislike of Johnson is well known ;* we do 
not of course know when it began or whether he had 

* Cf. NichoUs' Reminiscences J Gray's Letters, ed. Tovey, ii. 278. 



xxxvi 3(|ntrol>uction 

seen Johnson when in 1748 he praised London as " one 
of those few imitations that have all the ease and all the 
spirit of an original. ' ' Yet Johnson was now well known 1 
in London ; and it seems probable that Gray knew 
him by sight. Yet in spite of this dislike' of **Ursai 
Major," Gray respected Johnson's understanding, ''andli 
still more his goodness of heart. "^ These remarks do)' 
not imply that Gray was free from prejudices, or that t 
he was more than human ; what is meant is, that on i 
important matters his prejudices did not bias him un- • 
duly. Aversion to Voltaire' s moral character, Nicholls \ 
says, did not prevent Gray **from paying the full tri- ■ 
bute of admiration due to his genius. He was delighted I 
with his pleasantry ; approved his historical composi- 
tions, particularly his Essai sur Phistoire universelle ; - 
and placed his tragedies next in rank to those of 
Shakespeare. "3 

Next in the category of Gray's critical virtues may 
be mentioned his broad and sound scholarship. If not : 
the most learned man of his day, he was easily in the : 
front rank of eighteenth century savants. His reading ; 
included virtually the whole range of Greek and Roman ; 
authors and all that was best in French, Italian, and 
English literature. Of German belles-lettres, like 
other Englishmen of his day, he knew httle or no- 
thing ; but he knew something of Scaliger,4 and being 

"■ Cf. Horace Walpole's dislike of Johnson, frequently asserted, 
and with much greater violence. 

^ Nicholls, Reminiscences. 

^ Letters, ed. Tovey, ii. 278. See also 230 5 and the note. Cf. 
also his remark about Boswell, id. p. 287. 

* Letter to West, May 8, 1742, ed. Tovey, i. 102-. 



3|ncroUuctton xxxvii 

familiar with the best German editions of the class- 
ics, ^ he was cognizant of German ideals of scholarship. 
Nor was his reading limited to literature alone. He 
read works on history, architecture, archeology, paint- 
ing,2 theology,3 philology, botany, 4 medicine, 5 and 
travel.^ His mind was thus not merely filled with that 
broad information necessary for criticism of any real 
worth, but was also trained in critical judgment. As his 
numerous annotations indicate, he was a careful and 
observant reader. 

Moreover, it may be said that Gray possessed a well 
developed sense of humor. A person thus gifted is likely 
to see life in its true proportions. Gray's own humor 
is usually, though not always, of the genial, kindly sort 
which leaves no sting. Cambridge was for him at 
twenty, and we may suppose continued to be, the place, 
formerly known by the name of Babylon, of which <* the 
prophet spoke when he said, * The wild beasts of the 
desert shall dwell there and their houses shall be full of 
doleful creatures,' " etc.; 7 but he always took a good- 
natured interest in its petty squabbles — and especially 

' Letter to Wharton, September 1 1 , 1 746, cd. of Tovey, i. 
140 ff. 

^ Letters^ ed. Tovey, ii. 286. 

^ Id.^ i. 213, 330, ii. 282 ; and cf. the Essay on the Philosophy 
of Bolingbroke. 

* PForksy ed. Gosse, iii. 3525 cf. also his annotation of Lin- 
naeus. 

5 " You do not mention Gray's study of physic, of which he 
had read much, and I doubt to his hurt." Walpole, letter to 
Mason, April 3, 1775, in his Letters, ed. Mrs. Toynbee, ix. 175. 

^ fVorks^ ed. Gosse, iii. 311, 344 ; Gosse, Grayy pp. 204 f. 

' Letter to West, December, 1736. 



xxxviii 3(lntroJ5uction 

in the fortunes of " the high and mighty Prince Roger, 
surnamed the Long, Lord of the great Zodiac, the glass 
Uranium and the chariot that goes without horses,'* 
and a few similar ** characters." Now and then he is 
more sarcastic, as when he translated Non magna loqui- 
mur, sed vivimus, the motto for Dr. Plumptre's pic- 
ture, by the words, **we don't say much, but we hold 
good livings." ^ It shocks us when he speaks of his 
aged aunt as ** an old Harridan, who is the Spawn of 
Cerberus and the Dragon of Wantley " ; ^ but we do 
not know his provocation. For Mason, the voluminous 
writer of fourth-rate poems and dramas, he has the ex- 
pressive nickname of * * Scroddles. ' ' 3 Although he wrote 
to Mason long criticisms of Elfrida and Caractacus, he 
did not take Mason's eifusions too seriously. 

Finally, among the qualities that made Gray a critic 
was his sympathy. He saw another man's point of 
view and gave due weight to the inherited tendencies 
and prejudices which determined it. This is evident 
not so much from specific utterances as from the gen- 
eral tone of his writing and conversation. It was sym- 
pathy which led him to devote so much attention to 
the productions of Mason. It was this same quality 
which, in spite of his reserve of manner, brought him 
the devoted friendship of his little circle of intimates 
— Wharton, Chute, Stonehewer, Brown, and others. 

^ Letters, ed. Tovey, ii. 109. 
2 Id., pp. 58 f. ^ 

' This seems to occur first in the letter of 1756, ed. Tovey, i. 
298 ff. 



3|ntrot)uctton xxxix 

V. HIS CRITICAL WORKS 

Phado 

As we have seen, for several years after taking his 
degree in civil law. Gray read deeply and systematically 
in Greek literature. The notes which he made on 
Aristophanes and Plato were printed by Mathias in 
1 8 14 from manuscripts formerly in the possession of 
Richard Stonehewer, and by Gosse in 1884 (Gray's 
Works, iv. 1—338). Gosse says they had never been 
reprinted; he was unaware of the fact that a large se- 
lection of the notes on Plato was reprinted, with Ma- 
thias' introduction, in George Burges' translation of 
Plato, vi. 405-506, in 1854 (London, Bohn). 

It is no disparagement of these notes to say that 
they contain little or no criticism of the two Greek 
authors. Criticism was not Gray's purpose. What he 
sought to do was to furnish such analyses of plots and 
stories, and such explanatory notes and comments, as 
would enable a student to read the original text with 
understanding. In the state of Greek scholarship in 
Gray's time, such work was vastly more useful than 
criticism would have been; for criticism read before 
the student has some independent knowledge of the 
original is, for the purpose of sound scholarship, of 
little worth. 

As a specimen of Gray's remarks on Plato I have 
reprinted the section dealing with the Phadoy since 
this,, perhaps more than any other section of Gray's 
notes, combines anaylsis of some important matters 
with a measure of criticism. 



xl 31ncroUttccion 

The edition of Plato used by Gray, according tt 
Mathias, was that of Henry Stephens, 1578, three 
volumes, folio. It is interesting to note that the list of 
ancient authors sent by Gray to Wharton on September 
II, 1746^ does not apparently include any edition 
of Plato. No doubt the omission was accidental. 

In his letter to Wharton on the same date. Gray re- 
marks: **The best Editions of ancient authors should 
be the first things, I reckon, in a library.'* With pro- 
priety, then, this short extract from Gray's commentar- 
ies on the ancients may head the list of selections in this 
volume. 

Essay on the Philosophy of Lord Baling broke 

The Essay on the Philosophy of Lord Bo ling broke is 
Gray's only published venture in theological contro- 
versy. It was probably written soon after the appear- 
ance of Lord Bolingbroke's works, edited by David 
Mallet, 2 and was published by Mason in 1775. The 
particular passages against which Gray directed his attack 
are to be found in the Philosophical Works y iv, sections 
40, 41, 50.3 Bolingbroke asserts that the chain of 
reasoning by which, from a knowledge of the pheno- 
mena, we arrive at a knowledge of God has never been 
broken. The ancients recognized a supreme God a 
posteriori ; but there were some in ancient as in modern 
times who a priori made God after their own image. 

' Lettersy ed. Tovey, i. 140-143. 

^ Published March 6, 1754; cf. Boswell's yohnson^ cd. Hill, 
i. 268 f. 

^ In the London edition of 1809, viii. 143-164, 226-239. 



3IntroiJuction xH 

For such, God is only an infinite man. Among the 
most positive on this matter is Dr. Clarke. Bolingbroke 
then controverts Clarke's view that all the moral attri- 
butes are the same in God as in ourselves. Everything 
shows the wisdom and power of God conformably to 
our ideas; but everything does not, he holds, likewise 
show God's justice and goodness. These '* artificial 
theology" has attempted to demonstrate. If God is 
good, the atheists have asked, how comes it that there 
is evil in the world ? To answer this, the pagan theists 
absurdly supposed two co-existing principles; the mod- 
ern theists fell back on the equally absurd story of the 
fall of man. . . . The defenders of this hypo- 
thesis, moreover, distort the moral attributes of God. 
Wollaston's exaggerations become burlesque. He un- 
warrantably exalts man above other animals. All ani- 
mal and vegetable life is connected. The nature of 
every living creature is adapted to his condition and 
part in the action of the universe. Contrary to Woll- 
aston's theory of universal misery, the general state 
of mankind is not only tolerable but happy. Whatever 
Wollaston's own circumstances may have been, any 
person offering to cut Wollaston's throat would have 
been ill received. 

Such, in substance, is Bolingbroke' s thought. Gray, 
in reply, frankly admits that only a p&steriori reasoning 
is valid, then proceeds to demonstrate that we can 
comprehend God's goodness a posteriori much more 
easily than His wisdom and power; and if there is no 
analogy between God's attributes and our conceptions 
of them, then we can have no adequate conception of 



xlii 3|ntro0ttction 

them at all. Gray's words are dignified, although he 
concludes with fine sarcasm.* 

Essay on Norman Architecture 
This piece was first published by Mathias in 1 8 1 4, 
under the too general title of Architectura Gothica, 
Mr. Gosse {Gray, p. 115, Works, i. 294) has con- 
jectured that it was written in 1754. There is nothing 
inconsistent with this date; and in its favor may be 
mentioned the fact, shown by his letters, that in this 
year Gray was especially interested in architectural 
matters. 

In his biography (p. 116), Mr. Gosse has spoken 
of Gray as <*the first modern student of the history of 
architecture. '* As such, we must not expect too much 
from him. Some of his views are no longer held. His 
theory that the intersection of semicircular arches led 
to the building of pointed arches was long accepted; 
but it is now known that the pointed arch was in use in 
the East in the early Christian centuries; it was used 
in Egypt as early as 861 ; it may have been borrowed 
then through Sicily (which the Normans occupied 
from 1060 to 1 194), or possibly have been reinvented 
independently. It begins to appear in England as early 
as the time of Henry II.* 

* Mr. Tovey prints this piece in the second volume of the 
Letters^ pp. 43-46, with interesting notes. Bolingbroke's ** phil- 
osophy ' ' is well summed up by Sir Leslie Stephen in his English 
Thought in the Eighteenth Century^ i. 177—184. For a summary 
of WoUaston, seethe same, pp. 130-134; for Clarke, pp. 119— 
130. 

"■ Cf. Bond, Gothic Architecture in England^ pp. 262—266 j 



KlntroOuttion xliii 

Again, niches are scarcely among "the improve- 
ments of another age"; they occur as early as the 
eleventh century in the west front of Lincoln Cathe- 
dral; in the twelfth century at Barfreston; and in the 
thirteenth century at Wells, Salisbury, and Lichfield.^ 
Gray, therefore, is in error in supposing them to be 
later than the Romanesque Period. 

With Gray^s list of characteristics of the Norman 
style the general reader may conveniently compare the 
lists given by T. Roger Smith in his jirchitecture, 
Gothic and Renaissance ^ New York and London, 1880, 
pp. 23 f. Points characteristic of Romanesque and not 
referred to by Gray are the narrow windows, generally 
splayed only internally; the deeply recessed doorways; 
the massive square towers; and the wagon-headed or 
barrel vaulting. In Sturgis' Dictionary of Architecture 
and Buildingy iii. 330 (New York, 1902), Mr. R. 
Clipston Sturgis sums up the characteristics of English 
Romanesque as the great length of the nave, often six 
or seven times its span; the central tower; and the lack 
of ambition in scientific construction, which resulted in 
leaving the nave to be spanned with timber instead of 
being vaulted like the aisles. ^ 

R. P. Spiers in Encyclopedia Britannica, loth ed., xxv. 608 f. 
(1902); Russell Sturgis, European Architecture, an Historical 
Study, pp. 181, 183, 192 ff. (1896)5 C. H. Moore, Develop- 
ment and Character of Gothic Architecture, ad ed., p. 62; F. M. 
Simpson, A History of Architectural Development, 1909, ii. lo. 

^ Cf. Bond, Gothic Architecture in England, pp. 84-87. 

^ See also F, M. Simpson, A History of Architectural Devel- 
opment, 1909, ii. 243 fF. ; C. H. Moore, Development and 
Character of Gothic Architecture, 2d ed., 1899, pp. 191-236. 



xliv idntroUuction 



In a short criticism quoted by Mr. Gosse (Works, 
i. 301 f.), Mr. Basil Champneys remarks that **Gray 
does not seem to have perceived that Romanesque, to 
be appreciated, must be looked at from the Gothic 
point of view. His criticisms are what we should ex- 
pect to read from an exclusively Classical standpoint. 
He notices the clumsiness and want of studied propor- 
tion as a note of deterioration, and no doubt it was, 
but he appears also to take exception to the variety of 
detail, which gives the style its essentially Gothic 
character, and is to lovers of Gothic, its redeeming 
feature.'* This predilection for the classical styles was 
no doubt the result of Gray's general attachment to the 
classics, and should only remind us that fondness of 
genuine Gothic was not a characteristic of Gray's time. 
Altogether, in spite of the errors and shortcomings of 
Gray's paper, we can only marvel at its general 
breadth of view and exhibition of pure taste, and wish 
with Mr. Gosse that he had left more essays on archi- 
tectural topics. 

Meirum 

The remarks on metre and rhyme, to which Gray 
gave this general title, as well as the remarks on the 
poetry of Lydgate which follow, were probably among 
the fruits of Gray's sojourn at the British Museum in 
1 759-1 761. Mr. Gosse believes they were written in 
the winter of 1760 and the spring of 1761, but there 
is apparently no more warrant for this year than for the 
preceding year, 1759-60. They were first printed by 
Mathias in 1 8 1 4 ; the originals are preserved among the 
manuscripts of Pembroke College, Cambridge. 



I 



3|ntroi5uction xiv 

A reference to Gray's letter of April 15, 1770, to 
Thomas Warton will make it clear that these fragments 
were to have been parts of the History of English Poetry 
which, unhappily. Gray never brought to completion. 
In the Preface to his History of English Poetry (1774), 
i. p. iv., Warton says : 

** A few years ago, Mr. Mason, with that liberality 
which ever accompanies true genius, gave me an authen- 
tic copy of Mr. Pope's scheme of a History of English 
Poetry y in which our poets were classed under their 
supposed respective schools. The late lamented Mr. 
Gray had also projected a work of this kind, and trans- 
lated some Runic odes for its illustration, now pub- 
lished : but soon relinquishing the prosecution of a 
design, which would have detained him from his own 
noble inventions, he most obligingly condescended to 
favour me with the substance of his plan, which I found 
to be that of Mr. Pope, considerably enlarged, extended, 
and improved." 

Warton goes on to say that he found he could not 
use their plan,^ but adopted one which *< exhibits with- 
out transposition the gradual improvements of our poetry, 
at the same time that it uniformly represents the pro- 
gression of our language" (p. v.). 

In no other respect are Gray's views so much out of 
date as in respect to metre. He is totally wrong in his 
understanding of ** riding rhyme," and Puttenham, 
whom he thinks mistaken, was probably right. Like- 
wise, although his remark about ** doggerel verse" is 

^ Gray's plan U preserved in his letter to Warton, Works^ ed. 
Gosse, iii. 364 fF. 



xlvi 31ntrotittction 

true, that ** it was consistent with the greatest exactness 
in the caesura and in the measure," still Puttenham is 
also right ; for the writer of doggerel verse is tied only 
to the rules of rhyme, caesura, and number of accents, 
and it may be said that these are only the restrictions 
that belong to verse anyway. It is no reproach to Gray 
to say that his lists of poems in The Measures of Verse 
are now wholly antiquated ; for in his day the great 
bulk of English poetry prior to Shakespeare's time re- 
mained unprinted. The lists are indeed remarkable for 
containing as many titles as they do ; and are significant 
as a landmark in the history of English scholarship. 
Gray knows Uttle or nothing of the metre of Old Eng- 
lish (a subject which still has its cruces), as it appears 
from his remarks on the metre of Piers the Plowman, 
a modified form of Old English metre. ^ As regards the 
origin of rhyme, it is now known, of course, to have 
come into the Romance languages from tho Greek and 
Latin popular poetry of the classical and Middle Ages. 
Wilhelm Grimm, in his Zur Geschichte des Reims,^ 
collected many examples of rhyme, more or less per- 
fect, from Lucretius, Catullus, Virgil, Horace, Tibul- 
lus, and other Latin poets. The Arabs can have had 
little to do with its introduction into French and Eng- 
lish, since Germanic and French rhyme appeared before 
the Arabs entered into European history. 3 Nor is it 

^ " It is a sort of Indian Summer for the old Germanic metre." 
F. B. Gummere, Handbook of Poetics, 1890, p. 177. 

^ Abhandlungen der Koniglichen Akademie der Whiemchaften 
%u Berlin, 1851, pp. 521-713, especially pp. 627 ff. 

^ Cf. M. Kawczynski, Essai comparatif sur Vorigine et F histoire 
des rythmesy Paris, 1889, pp. 93 f. 



JlntroDuction xlvii 

now thought likely that the Celts had much to do with 
it, though rhyme was a regular feature of early Irish 
and Welsh poetry. 

On the other hand, in some matters Gray showed 
remarkable insight. His view that the apparent inequal- 
ities of Chaucer's metre were due to the mistakes of 
scribes is borne out by our modern study of manu- 
scripts. His remarks against Puttenham in regard to 
caesural freedom are sensible and are based on the right 
sort of reasoning. Finally, his general theory of the 
origin o£ rhyme among the common people, as far as it 
goes, may still pass as a fair statement of present-day 
views on the subject. 

0» the Poems of John Lydgate 
Two things at once strike the reader of Gray's re- 
marks on Lydgate : first, that he ranks Lydgate rather 
high, placing him in the class just below Chaucer, and 
above Gower and Hoccleve ; and second, that his opin- 
ions of Lydgate as here expressed are based wholly on 
The Fall of Princes, As this work contains some 
40,000 lines, however, if Gray read it through, he 
had some grounds on which to judge of the poet, even 
though Lydgate ^ be the longest-winded of all medieval 
English poets. Gray's opinion of Lydgate is shared by 
many who have probably read more widely in Lyd- 
gate 's works than had Gray.^ 

^ See the note on p. 96 2. 

^ Thus Dr. Schick, in his introduction to The Temple of Glas^ 
p. clvi., says: "It certainly does not occur to me to claim for 
Lydgate a place in the realms of higher poetry j but I think we 



xiviii 3IntroUttction 

Gray's treatment of Lydgate*s life is of course quite; 
inadequate ; doubtless he would have amplified it before ; 
he was satisfied with it. Yet it is to be noted that none 
of his dates needs to be changed to-day. At the time 
of writing, the facts of Lydgate's life did not interest 

must allow that not infrequently do we meet in his better works, 
especially in those of his youth, with passages which breathe true 
poetry, or at all events, lie on the borderlands of true poetry. . . . 
Moreover, his love of Nature, his humour, his earnest piety, his 
admiration of his betters or of genius beyond his reach — always 
tendered ungrudgingly — the love of his country, his national pride, 
his high reverence for women, cannot fail to win our hearts." 

In English. Writers, vi. 104 f. (1890), Henry Morley has this 
to say : *' John Lydgate was a bright, pleasant, and earnest monk, 
who wrote clear, fluent verse in any style then reputable 5 but who 
■was most apt at the telling of such moral stories as his public liked. 
Sometimes he was as prolix, and he always was as musical, as the 
old romancers who had been satirized by Chaucer in ' Sir 
Thopas ' ; but he preferred to take his heroes and heroines out of 
the Martyrology ; and he could write cleverly to order, for the li- 
brary of any monastery, the legend of its patron saint . . . John 
Lydgate was not a poet of great genius ; but he was a man with 
music in his life. He was full of a harmony of something more than 
words, not more diffuse than his age liked him to be, and there- 
fore, with good reason, popular and honoured among English read- 
ers in the fifteenth century." 

Finally, ten Brink {Geschichte der englischen Litteratury Strass- 
burg, 1893, ii. 231) thus expresses himself : '* Lydgate hatte von 
Haus aus das Zeug zu einem tiichtigen Volksdichter : eine welt- 
freudige, epische Stimmung, eine mannlich derbe Natur, welche 
zarteren Empfindungen keineswegs verschlossen war, einen klar und 
richtig beobachtenden Blick, einen entwickelten Sinn fiir Natur- 
schonheit. Was ihm fehlte, war die bedeutende Originalitat, der 
weite Gesichtskreis, die geistige Tiefe und Feinheit, die dem Kunst- 
dichter unentbehrlich sind, soil er sich iiber das Mittelmass 
erheben. ' * 



3|ncrot>uctton xiix 

him ; he hastened on to more important matters — Lyd- 
gate's knowledge of Latin, his **long processes,'* his 
facile rhymes, his ability to portray emotion, his satire 
on women and on monks. Gray's remarks on these 
topics are temperate and illuminating. So far as they 
go, in the main they have never been superseded, and 
there is nowhere to-day any better general estimate of 
Lydgate than that here furnished by the first modern 
student of the fifteenth century poet. 

- Samuel Daniel 

The brief character sketch of the poet Daniel, like 
the observations on metre and on Lydgate, was in- 
tended to form a part of the projected History of Eng- 
lish Poetry. It was first printed in The Athenceum 
for July 29, 1854 (No. 1396, pp. 941 f.), a few 
days before the sale of the Penn collection of Gray 
Mss., of which it formed a part, and so far as I know 
has never been reprinted. While somewhat sketchy 
and fragmentary in character, it nevertheless deserves 
to be incorporated into a collection of Gray's prose 
writings. 

The Letters 

Gray was a fairly industrious though by no means a 
voluminous letter-writer. Of his letters some 375 have 
been published, which were written between 1736 
and 1 77 1. His chief correspondents were his mother 
(until her death in 1753 ), West ( 1736—42), Walpole 
(173 6-6 8 ), Thomas Wharton ( 1 7 40-7 1 ) , J ohn Chute 
(1741-62), Mason (1753-70), James Brown 



1 31ntroDuction 

(1757-70), andNicholls (1764-71).' Of these the| 
only one now remembered except for this connection iij 
with Gray is Walpole. j 

This is not the place for a characterization of Gray's i 
letters as a collection. All the qualities of the best let- I 
ters are exhibited — ease, familiar playfulness, sym- 
pathy with the point of view of the correspondent, the 
charm of good breeding, perfect truthfulness, — and to 
do justice to them would require more space than can 
here be given. The reader may be referred to Mr. 
Tovey's excellent introductions. 

In this volume I have included from the letters a 
number of extracts pertaining mainly to literary criti- 
cism. Many of them, perhaps, are not to be taken too 
seriously, being merely off-hand first impressions. One 
of the most important letters, as Professor Saintsbury 
has pointed out, is the one ^ written to West in April, 
probably of 1742, in which Gray defends a cardinal 
principle of Romantic style : the principle of democratic 
freedom for the poet. In another interesting letter to 
Walpole ( 1 748), he reviews Dodsley's Miscellany, be- 
stowing praise and blame with taste and judgment. 
Important, too, are the remarks on the Letters Prefixed 
to Mason's Elfriday in which he shows some of the 
limitations imposed by the presence of the chorus. 
Many illuminating comments are scattered throughout 
the criticisms of Mason's works, as, for example, 3 

' For interesting remarks on some of these men, see the intro- 
duction to the Letters^ ed. Tovey, ii. pp. ix.-xxxv. 
^ See the text, p. 134. 
^ See the text, p. 221 f. 



^Introduction li 

where Gray speaks, referring to Mador's song in Ca- 
ractacus, of the difference between the lyric style and 
others, and explains why it cannot be long sustained. 
A number of letters touch on the Ossianic controversy, 
on which we find Gray with the will to believe, yet 
not blind to the evidence against the fragments. Not- 
able, too, is his letter to Bonstetten in which he com- 
ments wisely on Plato's portrait of a philosopher. In 
its essential elements this portrait may well be applied to, 
and fairly describes. Gray himself. He too was gentle, 
magnanimous, temperate, generous, accustomed to large 
views of things. Other qualities he lacked of those ne- 
cessary for ** one who would govern the rest of man- 
kind.'* But the noblest qualities of true manhood were 
generously meted out to him, and shine throughout his 
letters. 

VI. SUMMARY 

We may, then, recapitulate thus the points empha- 
sized in this introduction: Gray lived the life of a re- 
cluse and a scholar, caring little for society and less for 
domestic life; absorbed in his books; deeply interested 
in antiquity, yet not indifferent to the spectacle of con- 
temporary activity; viewing this spectacle, however, 
without a desire to engage actively in its struggles; car- 
ing little for fame and much for virtue. The smallness 
of his literary product was due not to the frigid atmo- 
sphere of the time which some have thought prevented 
him from ** speaking out," but to other causes, — lack 
of stimulus from his friends, the growing predominance 
of the scholarly temperament and inclination, his highly 



lii idntroDuction 

critical and fastidious taste, his natural reticence, his in- 
dolence or aversion to active creative effort, and his lack 
of ambition. In criticism Gray ranged himself at the 
start with the Romanticists, and w^as never bound by 
tradition or undue veneration for authority. His critical 
prose is small in bulk but important and significant be- 
cause of his attitude, that of the learner rather than the 
judge or arbiter, and because he possessed the qualities 
necessary for a great critic — disinterestedness, a sense 
of humor, sound learning, and sympathy. His critical 
utterances, though fragmentary, are always suggestive, 
and are among our valuable inheritances from the eight- 
eenth century. 

i 

VII. BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 1 

All of Gray's prose, we have seen, was published 
posthumously. The letters first appeared in the *' Mem- 
oirs of His Life and Writings ' ' prefixed by Mason to 
his edition of Gray *s Poems, York, 1775. The Obser- 
vations on English Metre, the Notes on Aristophanes 
and Plato, and other prose fragments were first printed 
by Thomas J. Mathias in his edition of the Works, 
London, 18 14. Gray's correspondence with Norton 
Nicholls was published by the Rev. John Mitford in 
1843; his correspondence with Mason, by the same 
editor in 1853. The mqst recent edition of his com- 
plete works is that of Mr. Edmund Gosse (4 volumes, 
London, 1884, revised in 1902), which in matters of 
detail is somewhat inaccurate, A selection from Gray's 
poetry and prose, edited by Professor William L. 
Phelps and including valuable critical matter, was pub- 



3{ntroi)ttctton liii 

lished in Ginn's Athenaum Press Series in 1894. 
Gray's Letters y admirably edited by Mr. Duncan C, 
Tovey, are now being published in three volumes in 
Bohn's Library (vol. i., 1900, vol. ii., 1904). Ap- 
pended to volume ii. are Nicholls' Reminiscences of 
Gray, written in 1805. The fullest life of Gray, though 
very inaccurate, is that by Gosse (^English Men of 
Letters St^n^Sy 1882, new edition, 1889). The most 
trustworthy account of his life is by the late Sir Leslie 
Stephen {Dictionary of National Biography, xxiii. 22— 
28, 1890). Valuable essays on Gray are by Matthew 
Arnold (in Ward's English Poets, London, 1880), 
Lowell {The New Princeton Review, i. 153—177, 
March, 1886, reprinted in his Latest Literary Essays, 
1892), Tovey in Gray and His Friends (Cambridge, 
1890), T. H. Warren, "Gray and Dante" {The 
Monthly Review, iii. 147—164, June, 1901, reprinted 
in his Essays of Poets and Poetry, 1909), and Thomas 
M. Parrott in his Studies of a Book-Lover, 1904. A 
full bibliography of Gray by the editor of this volume 
will appear in The Journal of English and Germanic 
Philology. 



anir 

€vitttim^ 



CjsjsatJS ann Critfcfjsmjs 



PHiEDO 
H, HEPI *YXHS 

(Plat. Op. Serrani. Vol. i, p. 57.) 

This famous dialogue was supposed by Panae- 
tius * the stoick, a great admirer of Plato, not to 
be genuine, or at least interpolated, rather, as it 
seems, from his own persuasion * of the soul's 
mortality, than from any thing in the piece itself 
unlike the manner or the tenets of the philoso- 
pher, to whom it has always been ascribed. The 
whole course of antiquity has regarded it as one 
of his principal works ; and (what seems decisive) 
Aristotle ^ himself cites it, as a work of his 
master. 

The historical part of it is admirable, and, 
though written and disposed with all the art and 
management of the best tragick writer, (for the 
slightest circumstance in it wants not its force 
and meaning) it exhibits nothing to the eye but 

* Anthologia, I. i, 44. ' Cicero, Tusc. Quaest. 1. i, 32. 

^ Meteorolog. I. 2, 2. 



4 €sfin^^ anO €tititiiim^ 

the noble simplicity of nature. Every intelligent 
reader will feel what those who were eye-wit- 
nesses are said to have felt, namely, arjdrj nvk 
xpaaLv, ttTTO T€ rrjs rjBovrj<s (rvyKeKpafxevrjv 6/xov /cat r^y 
Xv-n-qs, The innocence, the humanity, the cheer- 
fulness, and the unaffected intrepidity of Socrates,, 
will draw some tears from him (as it did many 
from them) as for the loss of a father ; and will» 
at the same time, better than any arguments^ 
shew him a soul, which, if it were not so, at 
ieast deserved to be immortal. 

The reasoning part is far inferior, sometimes 
weak, sometimes false, too obscure, too ab- 
stracted, to convince us of any thing ; yet with a 
mixture of good sense and with many fineobserva- 
,tions. The fabulous account of a future state 
lis too particular and too fantastick an invention, 
for Socrates to dwell upon at such a time, and 
has less decorum and propriety in it than the 
-other parts of the dialogue. 

Socrates attempts in this dialogue to prove,, 
that true philosophy is but a continual prepara- 
tion for death ; its daily study and practice being 
to wean and separate the body from the soul^ 
whose pursuit of truth is perpetually stopped and 
impeded by the numerous avocations, the little 
pleasures, pains, and necessities of its companion. 
IThat^ as death is but a transition from its oppo- 



pi^aeoo 5 

site,' life (in the same manner as heat is from cold, 
weakness from strength, and all things, both in 
the natural and in the moral world, from their 
contraries) so life is only a transition from death ; 
whence he would infer the probability of a met- 
empsychosis. That^ such propositions,* as every 
one assents to at first, being self-evident, and no 
one giving any account how such parts of knowl- 
edge, on which the rest are founded, were origin- 
ally cgnveyed to our mind, there must have been 
a pre-existent state, in which the soul was ac- 
quainted with these truths, which she recollects 
and assents to on their recurring to her in this 
life. That^ as truth is eternal and immutable, 
and not visible to our senses but to the soul alone; 
and as the empire, which she exercises over the 
body, bears a resemblance to the power of the 
Divinity, it is probable that she, like her object, 
is everlasting and unchangeable, and, like the 
office she bears, something divine. That^ it can- 
not be, as some have thought, merely a harmony 
resulting from a disposition of parts in the body, 
since it directs, commands, and restrains the func- 

* This was an idea of Pythagoras. *'E.v $i^ o-pxh reXevrTJs ' iv 
^6»^ Sh yfvfffis ipOopas. Diog. Laert. 1. 8, s. 22. 

* Socrates has explained the same doctrine in the Meno, p. 81, 
&c. but rather as conjectural than demonstrable, for he adds, 
in the conclusion, p. 86. TA fiev ye &K\a ohK Uv irdpv tJiri^ rod 
\6yov ^iiffxvpKrdi/xTiVf &c. 



6 C0j6{ai?0 and €xititiimg 

tions of that very body. That, the soul, being 
the cause of life to the body, can never itself be 
susceptible of death ; and that, there will be a 
state of rewards and punishments, the scene of 
which he takes pains in describing, though he 
concludes, that no man can tell exactly where or 
what it shall be. 

Dacier's superstition and folly are so great in 
his notes on the Phaedo, that they are not worth 
dwelling upon. 



ESSAY ON THE PHILOSOPHY OF 
LORD BOLINGBROKE 

I WILL allow Lord Bolingbroke, that the moral, 
as well as physical, attributes of God must be 
known to us only a posteriori, and that this is 
the only real knowledge we can have either of 
the one or the other ; I will allow too that per- 
haps it may be an idle distinction which we 
make between them : His moral attributes being 
as much in his nature and essence as those we 
call his physical ; but the occasion of our making 
some distinction is plainly this : His eternity, 
infinity, omniscience, and almighty power, are 
not what connect him, if I may so speak, with 
us his creatures. We adore him, not because 
he always did in every place, and always will, 
exist ; but because he gave, and still preserves to 
us our own existence by an exertion of his good- 
ness. We adore him, not because he knows and 
can do all things, but because he made us cap- 
able of knowing and of doing what may conduct 
us to happiness. It is therefore his benevolence 
which we adore, not his greatness or power ; 
and if we are made only to bear our part in a 
system, without any regard to our own partic- 



8 Csi0ai?0 anU Criticiflfmsf \ 

ular happiness, we can no longer worship him as \ 
our all-bounteous parent. There is no meaning: 
in the term. The idea of his malevolence (an 
impiety I tremble to write) must succeed. We 
have nothing left but our fears, and those too 
vain ; for whither can they lead but to despair 
and the sad desire of annihilation ? " If then, , 
justice and goodness be not the same in God as 
in our ideas, we mean nothing when we say that 
God is necessarily just and good ; and for the 
same reason it may as well be said that we 
know not what we mean when, according to Dr. 
Clarke, (Evid. 26th) we affirm that he is neces- 
sarily a wise and intelligent Being." What then 
can Lord Bolingbroke mean, when he says every 
thing shews the wisdom of God ; and yet adds, 
every thing does not shew in like manner the 
goodness of God, conformably to our ideas of 
this attribute in either ! By wisdom he must 
only mean, that God knows and employs the 
fittest means to a certain end, no matter what 
that end may be. This indeed is a proof of 
knowledge and intelligence ; but these alone do 
not constitute wisdom ; the word implies the 
application of these fittest means to the best and 
kindest end : or, who will call it true wisdom ? 
Even amongst ourselves, it is not held as such. 
All the attributes then that he seems to think 



apparent in the constitution of things, are his 
unity, infinity, eternity, and intelligence j from 
no one of which, I boldly affirm, can result any 
duty of gratitude or adoration incumbent on 
mankind, more than if He and all things round 
him were produced, as some have dared to think, 
by the necessary working of eternal matter in 
an infinite vacuum: for what does it avail to 
add intelligence to those other physical attri- 
butes, -unless that intelligence be directed, not 
only to the good of the whole, but also to the 
good of every individual of which that whole is 
composed ? 

It is therefore no impiety, but the direct con- 
trary, to say that human justice and the other 
virtues, which are indeed only various applica- 
tions of human benevolence, bear some resem- 
blance to the moral attributes of the supreme 
Being. It is only by means of that resemblance, 
we conceive them in him, or their effects in his 
works. It is by the same means only, that we 
comprehend those physical attributes which his 
Lordship allows to be demonstrable. How can 
we form any notion of his unity, but from that 
unity of which we ourselves are conscious? 
How of his existence, but from our own con- 
sciousness of existing ? How of his power, but 
of that power which we experience in ourselves ? 



1 

10 C0flfai?0 anU Criticisfmjs 

Yet neither Lord Bolingbroke nor any other t| 
man, that thought on these subjects, ever be- 
lieved that these our ideas were real and full re- 
presentations of these attributes in the Divinity. 
They say he knows ; they do not mean that he 
compares ideas which he acquired from sensa- 
tion, and draws conclusions from them. They 
say he acts; they do not mean by impulse, npr 
as the soul acts on an organized body. They 
say he is omnipotent and eternal ; yet on what 
are their ideas founded, but on our own narrow 
conceptions of space and duration, prolonged 
beyond the bounds of place and time ? Either, 
therefore, there is a resemblance and analogy 
(however imperfect and distant) between the 
attributes of the Divinity and our conceptions 
of them, or we cannot have any conceptions of 
them at all. He allows we ought to reason from 
earth, that we do know, to heaven which we do 
not know ; how can we do so but by that affinity 
which appears between one and the other? 

In vain, then, does my Lord attempt to ridi- 
cule the warm but melancholy imagination of 
Mr. Wollaston in that fine soliloquy : " Must I 
then bid my last farewell to these walks when 
I close these lids, and yonder blue regions and 
all this scene darken upon me and go out ? 
Must I then only serve to furnish dust to be 



mingled with the ashes of these herds and plants, 
or with this dirt under my feet ? Have I been 
set so far above them in life, only to be levelled 
with them in death ? '* ^ No thinking head, no 
heart, that has the least sensibility, but must 
have made the same reflection ; or at least must 
feel, not the beauty alone, but the truth of it 
wjien he hears it from the mouth of another. 
Now what reply will Lord Bolingbroke make to 
these questions which are put to him, not only 
by Wollaston, but by all mankind ? He will tell 
you, that we, that is, the animals, vegetables, 
stones, and other clods of earthy are all connected 
in one immense design, that we are all Dramatis 
Personie, in different characters, and that we 
were not made for ourselves, but for the action : 
that it is foolish, presumptuous, impious, and 
profane to murmur against the Almighty Author 
of this drama, when we feel ourselves unavoid- 
ably unhappy. On the contrary, we ought to 
rest our head on the soft pillow of resignation, 
on the immovable rock of tranquillity; secure, 
that, if our pains and afl[lictions grow violent in- 
deed, an immediate end will be put to our mis- 
erable being, and we shall be mingled with the 
dirt under our feet, a thing common to all the 
animal kind; and of which he who complains 

* Religion of Nature Delineated, sect. 9, p. 209, quarto. 



12 (B&^w^i anD Crietctsfm0 

does not seem to have been set by his reason so 
far above them in life, as to deserve not to be 
mingled with them in death. Such is the con- 
solation his philosophy gives us, and such the 
hope on which his tranquillity was founded. 



ESSAY ON NORMAN ARCHI- 
TECTURE 

The characteristics of the old Norman or (as 
Sir Christopher Wren calls it) the Saxon Archi- 
tecture, are great solidity, heaviness, and rude 
simplicity, better adapted to castles, walls of 
cities, Snd other places of defence, than to the 
purposes of habitation, magnificence, or religious 
worship. It seems indeed to be copied from the 
Roman style in that degenerate state to which 
it was reduced under the later emperors ; for it 
seems but natural that the Franks ^ in Gaul, the 
Saxons in England, and other barbarous nations 
in the several countries which had made a part 
of the Roman empire (when they were once 
settled there, and found leisure to apply them- 
selves to the arts of peace) should imitate those 
many monuments which were every where be- 
fore their eyes, and especially (as they them- 
selves were now become Christians) such as had 
been long consecrated to the uses of religion, 
and were filled with the miraculous relics and 
representations of those saints who were the 

' Including the Normans, who soon learned the language and 
customs of the Franks. 



14 C^sfflfa^sf ana €titlti$m& 

principal objects of their worship. It may be 
asked, why then did they not rather imitate the 
beautiful remains of a better age, of which many 
were then in being, as some of them exist to 
this day ? I answer, because taste had nothing 
to do in their choice ; because the fabrics erected 
in the time and for the purposes of Christianity 
had a nearer connection with their own faith ; 
and lastly, because the artizans employed in 
them were probably their subjects and natives 
of the country, who received these arts by tra- 
dition from their fathers, and were unaccustomed 
to any other style of building. 

The particulars which distinguish this kind 
of architecture, which seems to have lasted in 
England from the time of the Conquest (if not 
earlier) to the beginning of Henry the Third's 
reign, that is, from a. d. 1066 to about 1216, are 
chiefly these. 

First distinction. The semi-circular^ or round- 
headed., ' arch., generally, if not always, used in the 

^ I cannot absolutely affirm, that they never made use of the 
pointed arch, because the great western tower at Ely now rises upon 
four such arches; some of the ranges, too, which adorn the outside 
of this and of the Galilee adjoining, are of like form, and the grand 
arches in front under the middle tower of Peterborough are pointed: 
but yet I do suspect that all these were alterations and additions 
made in succeeding ages, which, I am persuaded, was a common 
practice with regard to windows, in order to let in more light, and 



jl^onnan artljiteccure 15 

three orders which commonly compose the nave, 
namely, the lower great one that opens to the 
side aisles ; the second, which runs in front of 
the two corridores over those aisles ; and the up- 
permost, which forms a sort of arcade before the 
higher range of windows. The doors, the vault 
of the aisles, and even the windows, are in this 
form too, and the arch is usually wide beyond 
the just proportion of its height. 

The same arching is frequently used to cover 
the long vacancy of a dead wall, and forms an 
arcade adhering to it with tall clumsy * pillars and 
extraordinary narrow intercolumns ; and for a like 
purpose they frequently employed a wider arch- 
work rising on short columns and interlaced, so 
that the curve of one arch intersecting that of its 
neighbour, their pillars or legs stand at only half 
the distance from each other that they otherwise 
would do. This, though only an ornament, might 
perhaps suggest the idea of building on pointed 
arches^ afterwards in use, as the intersection of 
two circular ones produces the same effect to the 
eye. 

Second distinction. The massy piers^ or pillars, 

also to take off from the plain and heavy appearance of those thick 
walls. 

^ They have no swell, nor gradual diminution, which seems to 
be the cause of this clumsy appearance; besides this, they stand too 
close together. 



1 6 €isi&di^fi anJ) €titkiiimti 

either of an octagonal, round, or elliptical form^' 
on which the arches rise. They are sometimes 
decagons, or duodecagons, or even a mixture of 
all these, without any correspondence or regular- 
ity at all, as in the choir at Peterborough : their i 
height is generally far too short for their diame- 
ter, which gives them the appearance of great 
strength joined with heaviness. This latter fault 
seems to have struck even the eyes of that age 
itself, and, to conceal it, they added a flat pilaster 
on four sides of the pier, with a slender half- 
column projecting from it, or (to lighten it still 
more) covered the pier almost entirely with clus- 
tered pillars of small diameter, adhering to its 
surface, which in reality bear little or nothing of 
the weight, and serve merely for ornament. This 
latter had so good an effect, that it was adopted 
by all architects of succeeding times, and con- 
tinued till the revival of the Greek and Roman 
style. There are very ancient examples of these 
cluster-piers to be seen, sometimes intermixed 
alternately with the plainer kind, as at Durham ; 
sometimes interspersed among them, as it were 
by chance, as at Peterborough; and sometimes 
alone and unmixed, as in the views of old St. 
Paul's, and at Ely. From the capital of the piers 
usually rises a half-column of but small diameter, 
which, passing between the arches of the two 



il^orman 3ixt^ttttwct 17 

upper orders in the nave or choir &c., reaches 
quite up to the roof, and is a principal grace of 
these buildings. 

On the outside, as they have no buttresses, 
which were the invention of later ages, the walls 
are commonly adorned either with half-columns 
or with flat stripes of stone-work, resembling a 
plain pilaster, at regular distances. 

Third distinction. The capitals of the piers and 
smaller columns have great variety in their forms ; 
the square, the octagon, the cushioned, or swell- 
ing beneath, with four flat faces cut in a semi- 
circle, the convex part downward, and sometimes 
adorned ^ with a mantling, or piece of drapery 
trussed like a festoon. Some of the large ones 
there are which, swelling like the last underneath, 
break above ^ into eight or sixteen angular pro- 
jections, something like the rostra of an antique 
ship. Others are round, and decked with an awk- 
ward imitation ^ of acanthus leaves, curling at the 
point into a sort of volutes. These, and many 
other uncouth forms and inventions, may be seen 
in the arcade of the side aisles at Peterborough, 
where they have studied to vary all the capitals, 
as far as their art reached, and seem to have 
thought there was a beauty in this confusion : 

* As at Durham. ' In the choir at Peterborough. 

* In the Prebend's narrow way, and the south transept at Ely. 



1 8 €sim^ii anD Criticisfmflf 

they are all in general too squat and too gross 
for the pillars which they are meant to adorn, 
not to mention the rudeness they have in com- 
mon with every other member of these buildings, 
that required any sculpture or delicacy of work- 
manship. 

Fourth distinction. The ceilings^ at least in the 
wider and loftier parts, as of the nave, choir, and 
transepts, &c. were usually, I imagine, only of 
timber, perhaps because they wanted the skill to 
vault with stone in these great intervals, though 
they practised it in the smaller. They are either 
entirely flat, as at Peterborough, or gabel-fash- 
ioned with rafters, as in the transepts at Ely, of 
coved with frame-work made of small scantlings 
of wood, and lying open to the leads, as in the 
nave of the same church. 

Fifth distinction. The ornaments^ which are 
chiefly mouldings in front of the arches, and 
fasciae or broad lists of carving, which run along 
the walls over them or beneath the windows, are 
without any neatness, and full as clumsy as the 
capitals above mentioned ; the most frequent of 
them is the zig-zag^ or chevron-work. There are 
also ^/V^-W-moulding, the nail-head^ as in the 
great tower at Hereford and in the pendents of 
arches in the nave of old St. Paul's, resembling 
the heads of large nails drove in at regular dis~ 



iliorman Sirctiicecture 19 

tances; the nehule^ which I call by that name 
from its likeness to a coat nebule in heraldry ^ 
and the lozenge and triangle lattice-work. These^ 
with the ranges of arch-work rising one over 
another, with which they decorated the fronts^ 
of buildings and the sides of their towers on the 
outside, are the principal inventions which they 
employed for ornament. As to statues,* niches,^ 
canopies, finialls, and tracery, they were the im- 
provements of another age. 

Such are the most obvious distinctions of this 
early style of building. An accurate inspection: 
of those remains, which have their dates well 
ascertained, might possibly discover many other 
particulars, and also shew us the gradual advances 
of the art within the period which I have as- 
signed ; for it is not to be imagined that all the 
forms which I have described made their appear- 
ance at one and the same time, or that the build- 

* Under the highest range of windows on the outside of Peter- 
borough Cathedral, and elsewhere. 

^ There may be some figures extant in England, in stone or 
wood, older than the period which I have here assigned, but they 
made no part of the architect's design, and even on sepulchral mon- 
uments are very rare; besides that their originality may well be 
disputed; for example, that of King Ethelbald on Crowland Bridge^ 
of King Osric at Worcester, of Robert Courthose at Gloucester, &c. 

' These niches, when they had the figure of any saint in them^ 
were called perks, whence comes our old phrase of being perked up, 
or exposed to public view. 



20 (B&aw^^ anU Crttici^mg 

ings, for example, in the first years of Henry the 
Second were exactly like those erected in the end 
of his reign. Any eye may perceive the difference 
between the body and aisles of the choir at Peter- 
borough, with the east side of the transept, and 
the semicircular tribune which finishes the same 
choir, the two ends and west side of the transept, 
and the whole nave of the church : yet all these 
were built within the compass of five and thirty 
years by two successive abbots. 

Upon the whole, these huge structures claim 
not only the veneration due to their great an- 
tiquity, but (though far surpassed in beauty by the 
buildings of the three succeeding centuries) have 
really a rude kind of majesty, resulting from the 
loftiness of their naves, the gloom of their aisles, 
and the hugeness of their massive members^ which 
seem calculated for a long duration. 



OBSERVATIONS ON ENGLISH 
METRE 

Though I would not with Mr. Urry,' the Ed- 
itor of Chaucer, insert words and syllables, un- 
authorized by the oldest manuscripts, to help out 
what seems lame and defective in the measure 
of our ancient writers, yet as I see those manu- 
scripts, and the first ^ printed editions, so ex- 
tremely inconstant in their manner of spelling 
one and the same word as to vary continually, 
and often in the compass of two lines, and seem 
to have no fixed orthography, I cannot help 
thinking it probable, that many great inequalities 
in the metre are owing to the neglect of tran- 
scribers, or that the manner of reading made up 
for the defects which appear in the writing. Thus 
the y which we often see prefixed to participles 
passive, j'cleped, ^hewe, &c. is not a mere arbi- 

* See the Preface to Urry's Chaucer. Fol. 

^ This inconstancy of the manner of spelling one and the same 
word is not confined to the first printed copies, but is found equally 
in the MSS. themselves. This is no wonder, for the Italians them- 
selves, contemporary with Chaucer, writing in an age when litera- 
ture began to flourish, and in a language more regular and gram- 
matical than that of any neighbouring country, had yet no fixed 
orthography, as appears from the original manuscripts of Francesco 
Barberino, Boccaccio, and Petrarch, which are still preserved. 
(See Crescimbeni, Comentarj, 1. 6.) 



22 Csfsfa^fif anu Criticis?m0 

trary insertion to fill up the verse, but is the old 
Anglo-Saxon augment, always prefixed formerly 
to such participles, as ^^lufod (loved) from lufian 
(to love), ^^raed, from raedan (to read), &c. which 
augment, as early as Edward the Confessor's time, 
began to be written with a y^ or an /, as ^lufod, 
/seld, for ^<?lufod, ^<?seld, (loved, sold,) as Dr. 
Hickes ^ informs us in his Anglo-Saxon Gram- 
mar, C. 22, p. 136. This syllable, though (I 
suppose) then out of use in common speech, our 
poets inserted, where it suited them, in verse. 
The same did they by the final syllable of verbs, 
as bren«/«, correc//«, dron^/'w, &c. (to burn, cor- 
rect, drink,) which was also Saxon, all the infin- 
itives in that tongue ending with an an^ or eon^ as 

^ And see Somner's Saxon Dictionary in Ge. Chaucer seems to 
have been well aware of the injustice that his copyists might chance 
to do to him : he says, towards the end of his Troilus, 
**And for there is so great diversitie, 
In English, and in writing of our tong; 
So pray I to God, that none miswrite thee, 
Ne thee mis-metre for defaut of tong 
And redde where so thou be, or else song, 
That thou be understond', God I beseech — '* 
Yet in another place he says, 

**But for the rime is light and lewde, 
Yet make it somewhat agreeable 
Though some verse fayle in a syllable.'* 

(3d b. of Fame.) 
And so says Lydgate of himself: 

** Because I know the verse therein is wrong, 
As being some too short, and some too long." 

(Chronicle of Troye, p. 316.) 



d^bflferbationg on €n^liiii) ^tttt 23 

bebyrige2in^ to bury, maga.n^to be able, ^^/>on, to 
rejoice, and most of the participles passive, and 
the plural persons terminating with the same let- 
ter, SLSygefunden^ found, beswungen, beaten, &c. ; 
and we^ ge^ hi^ mihton^ (we, he, they, might), we 
wo/don^ we would ; we sceoldon^ we should ; we 
<7ron, we are, &c. This termination began to be 
omitted after the Danes were settled among us ; 
for in the Cimbrick tongue the verbs usually fin- 
ished In ^, as greipa.^ to gripe, habz^ to have, which 
in the Saxon were greipzn^ hab3.n ; the transition 
is very apparent thence to the English which 
we now speak. As then our writers ^ inserted 

^ The same thing is observable in the MSS. and first editions of 
the Italian Poets. Even in Dante's and in Petrarch's time, as, 

"Nello stato primaio non si rinselva." 

Purgatorio, c. 14, v. 66. 
And, 

"Ecco Cin da Pistoia, Guitton d' Arezzo." 

Trionfo dell' Amore, capit. 4, v. 32. 
In both which verses there is a syllable too much, on which Cres- 
cimbeni observes, "Costumavano gli antichi rimatori, ogni volta 
che in fin d' una voce s' incontrava la vocale / tra due altri vocali, 
troncar la voce, e pronunziarla fino alia sillaba accentuata acuta- 
mente, benchfe la voce ad arbitrio la scrivessero or tronca con 
Papostrofe, ed ora intera." (Istor : deila Volg : Poesia, 1. i,p. 9.) 
And one would think that they occasionally practised the same 
thing in syllables not consisting of a vowel only, by that verse of an 
ancient poet, which he cites, 

"Tu sei quel armatura, per cui vencimmo," 
where in reading they probably sunk the last syllable of armaturaj 
because the accent did not fall upon it. This might less offend them, 
because their ears were so used to the Provencal dialect, in which 
abundance of words are the same with the Italian, were not the last 



24 CBsf^a^s^ ant) Cnctcis;m$ 

these initial and final letters, or omitted them ; 
and, where we see them written, we do not doubt 
that they were meant to fill up the measure ; it 
follows, that these Poets had an ear not insensi- 
ble to defects in metre ; and where the verse 
seems to halt, it is very probably occasioned by 
the transcriber's neglect, who, seeing a word spelt 
differently from the manner then customary, 
changed or omitted a few letters without reflecting 
on the injury done to the measure. The case is 
the same with the genitive case singular and the 
nominative plural of many nouns, which by the 
Saxon inflection had an additional syllable, as 
wordy a word, wordis^ of a word : smithy a smith, 
smithisy of a smith, smithas^ smiths, which, as 
Hickes observes, is the origin of the formation 
of those cases in our present tongue ; but we now 
have reduced them, by our pronunciation, to an 
equal number of syllables with their nominatives 
singular. This was commonly done too, I imag- 
ine, in Chaucer's and Lydgate's time ; but, in 
verse, they took the liberty either to follow the 
old language in pronouncing the final syllable, or 
to sink the vowel and abridge it, as was usual, 
according to the necessity of their versification. 

syllable cut off, as Y^ttat for pie^afe, seqwcw/ for seguente, poderwz 
for poderoio, jach for fatto, &c. and doubtless from that language 
the Italians borrowed their custom of sinking the vowel in the end 
of many words at pleasure, when the next begins with a consonant, 
which they now do in prose, as well as in verse. 



<Db0eri3ation0 on €n^li$\) ^tttt 25 

For example, they would read either violettes 
with four syllables, or violets with three ; bani/V, 
or banks ; triiimphys, or triumphs, indifferently, 
I have mentioned (in some remarks on the verses 
of Lydgate) the e mute, and their use of it in 
words derived from the French, and I imagine 
that they did the same in many words of true Eng- 
lish origin, which the Danes had before robbed 
of their final consonant, writing bute for the 
SsLXoirbutan (without), hifora for hiforan (before), 
ondrede for ondreadan (to dread), gebringe for ge- 
bringan (to bring), doeme for deman (to deem), 
and abundance of other words. Here we may 
easily conceive, that though the n was taken 
away, yet the e continued to be pronounced 
faintly, and though in time it was quite dropped 
in conversation, yet when the poet thought fit to 
make a syllable of it, it no more offended their 
ears than it now offends those of a Frenchman 
to hear it so pronounced, in verse. 

Puttenham, in his Art of Poetry, addressed 
to Queen Elizabeth in 1587, tells us, 1. 2, c. 4, 
that " Chaucer, Lydgate, and others used Cesures 
either very seldom, or not at all, or else very 
licentiously ; and many times made their meetres 
(they called them riding Rhyme) of such un- 
shapely words as would allow no convenient ce- 
sure ; and therefore did let their rymes run out at 



26 ([l;sfs;a^8? anD Critici^msr 

length, and never staid till they came to the end ; 
which manner, though it were not to be misliked 
in some sort of meetre, yet in every long verse 
the cesure ought to be kept precisely, if it were 
but to serve as a law to correct the licentiousness 
of Rymers. Besides that it pleaseth the eare 
better, and sheweth more cunning in the maker 
by following the rule of his restraint, for a Rymer 
that will be tied by no rules at all, but range as 
he list, may utter what he will ; but such manner 
of Poesy is called in our Vulgar, ^ ' Ryme Dogrell^ 

^ It appears from Alderman Fabian's Prologue to the second 
volume of his Chronicle, written in Henry the Seventh's reign, 
that the free verse, where no exact number of syllables was ob- 
served, was then called doggrell. Thus, 
"Now would I fayne 
In wordes plaine 
Some honour sayne, 

And bring to mynde 
Of that aunciente citye, 
That so goodly is to se, 
And full trewe ever hath be, 
And also full kynde, &c. 

For though I shuld all day tell, 
Or that with my ryme dogerell 
Myght I not yet halfe do spell 
This townes great honour, &c. 

To the Reader. 
Whoso hym liketh these versys to rede, 
Wyth favour I pray he wyll theym spell. 
Let not the rudeness of them hym lede 
For to desprave this ryme dogerell^'' &c. 



(©b0ert3ationsf on dBnglis^ ^tttt 27 

with which rebuke we will that in no case our 
Maker shall be touched." 

Then Puttenham gives rules for the Cesura, 
which he tells us, " In a verse of twelve syllables 
should always divide it exactly in the middle; in 
one of ten, it should fall on the fourth, in one of 
eight on the same, in one of seven on the same, 
or on none at all," &:c. I mention no ^ more than 
these, as they are now the only measures ad- 
mitted into our serious poetry, and I shall con- 
sider how his rules hold in modern practice. 

Alexandrines, ^ or verses of twelve syllables, it 
is true, though Spenser sometimes does other- 
wise, must, if they would strike the ear agree- 
ably, have their pause in the middle, as. 

And after toilsome days | a soft repose at night. 

* Lines of six, five, or four syllables are intermixed in lyric com- 
positions, but, as Puttenham says, " they need no cesure, because 
the breath asketh no relief." 

^ Puttenham says, "The Alexandrine is with our modern rhymers 
most usual, with the auncyent makers it was not so. For before 
Sir Thomas Wyatt's time they were not used in our vulgar: they 
be for grave and stately matters fitter, than for any other ditty of 
pleasure. — If the cesure be just in the middle, and that ye suffer 
the verse to run at full length, and do not (as common rimers do, 
or their printer, for sparing of paper) cut them off in the middest, 
wherein they make in two verses but halfe rime, they do very weL" 
Art of Poesie, 1. ii. c. 3. — The poets of Henry the Eighth's time 
mixed it with the line of fourteen syllables alternately, which is so 
tiresome, that we have long since quite banished it. Thus many 
things of Wyatt's and Lord Surrey's are written, and those of Q,ueen 
Elizabeth on the Queen of Scots. 



28 atesitfi ano Criticismst 

Or, 

He both her warlike Lords | outshined in Helen's eyes. 

And this uniformity in the cesura is just the rea- 
son why we no longer use them but just to finish 
a lyric stanza : they are also sometimes inter- 
spersed arbitrarily among verses of ten syllables. 
This is an odd custom, but it is confirmed by the 
sanction which Dryden and Pope have given to 
it, for they soon tire the ear with this sameness 
of sound; and the French seem to have judged 
ill in making them their heroic ^ measure. 

Verses of eight syllables are so far from being 
obliged to have their cesura on the fourth, that 
Milton, the best example of an exquisite ear that 
I can produce, varies it continually, as, 

To live with her, | and live with thee . . On the 4th. 

In unreproved | pleasures free . . . 5th. 

To hear the lark | begin his flight . . 4th. 

And singing | startle the dull night . . 3d. 

^ They were not so till towards the end of the sixteenth century. 
*'Quant aux vers de douze syllabes, que nous appellons Alexan- 
drins, combien qu'ils proviennent d'une longue anciennete, toute- 
fois nous en avions perdu I'usage. Car, lorsque Marot insere 
quelques uns dedans ses Epigrammes ou Tombeaux, c'est avec 
cette suscription, Vers Alexandrins; comme si c'etoit chose nouvelle 
et inaccoustumee d'en user. — Le premier des notres, qui les mit 
en credit, fut Baif en ses Amours de Francine, suivy depuis par 
Du Bellay au livre de ses Regrets, et par Ronsard en ses Hymnes, 
et finalement par Du Bartas, qui semble vouloir renvier sur tous 
les autres en ses deux Semaines." (See Pasquier, 1. vii. c. 8 and 
II.) Yet Ronsard, in his Art of Poetry, continues to call the 
Decasyllabic measure only Heroic Verse, and uses it in his Fran- 
ciade and other long compositions. 



ii^bfiferbations? on Cnglisfti ^etre 29 

Where the great sun | begins his state . . 4th. 

The clouds | in thousand liveries dight . 2d. 

With masque | and antique pageantry . . 2d. 

The more we attend to the composition of Mil- 
ton's harmony, the more we shall be sensible how 
he loved to vary ^ his pauses, his measures, and 
his feet, which gives that enchanting air of free- 
dom and wildness to his versification, unconfined 
by any rules but those which his own feeling and 
the nature of his subject demanded. Thus he 
mixes the line of eight syllables with that of 
seven, the Trochee and the Spondee with the 
Iambic foot, and the single rhyme with the dou- 
ble. He changes the cesura as frequently in the 
heptasyllabic measure, as. 

Oft on a plat | of rising ground (Octosyll.) 

I hear | the far-off curfew sound, (Oct: — ) On the 2d. 

Over some | wide-water'd shore . . . 3d. 

Swinging slow | with sullen roar: . . '. 3d. 

Or if the air | will not permit, &c. (Oct: — ) 4th4 

Far from all resort | of mirth .... 5th. 

Save the cricket | on the hearth . . , 4th. 

Or the bellman's | drowsy charm . . . 4th. 

* Lord Surrey (who was Puttenham's example for sweetness 
and proportion of metre) generally, though not always, makes 
his Caesura on the fourth; as, 

"True wisdom join'd | with simpleness. 

The night | discharged of all care, . . On the 2nd. 

Where wine the wit | may not oppresse 

The faithful wife | without debate, 

Such slepes | as may beguile the night, 

Content thyself | with thine estate, 

Ne wish for death, | ne feare his might." 



30 C^sfa^flf anu Cttttcfemfii 

But the greatest confinement which Putten- 
ham would lay on our verse is that of making 
the Caesura constantly fall on the fourth syllable 
of our decasyllabic measure, which is now be- 
come our only heroic ^ metre for all poems of 
any length. This restraint Wyatt and Lord Sur- 
rey submitted to, though here and there you find 
an instance of their breaking through it, though 
rarely. So, 

From these hye hilles | as when a spring doth falle, 

It trilleth down | with still and subtle course, 

Of this and that | it gathers aye, and shall 

Till it have just | downe flowed to stream and force: 

So fareth Love, | when he hath ta'en a course; 

Rage is his raine; | resistance 'vaileth none; 

The first eschue | is remedy alone. Wyatt. 

^ We probably took it from the Italians. Their heroic measure 
has indeed eleven syllables, because of the rhyme, which is double; 
but as our language requires single rhyme, the verse was reduced 
to ten syllables; the run of it is the same to the ear. The Italians 
borrowed it from the Provencals, there being verses extant still 
of this kind by Arnauld Daniel, who died in 1189, and is celebrated 
by Petrarch, under the title of Gran Maestro d'amor, and of 
Arnauld de Merveille, who flourished about 11 90, as, 
** Fazes auzir vostras castas preguieras 
Tant doussament, qu'a pietat sia moguda 
De s' inclinar a ma justa demanda," &c. 

Crescimbeni, Istor. della Volg. Poesia, 1. i, p. 6. 
Dante judges it the best adapted of any metre to noble subjects. 
"Quorum omnium Endecasyllabum videtur esse superbius, tam 
temporis occupatione quam capacitate sententiae, constructionis, 
et vocabulorum, &c. — et omnes hoc Doctores perpendisse viden- 
tur, Cantiones illustres principiantes ab illo." (De Vulgari Elo- 
quentia, 1. ii, c. 5.) 



#b0ert)ation0 on €n%liilf ^tttt 3 1 

And these verses of Surrey : 

In active games | of nimbleness and strength 
Where we did strain, | trained with swarms of youth, 
Our tender limbs, | which yet shot up in length: 
The secret groves, | which oft we made resound 
Of plesaunt plaint, | and of our Lady's praise, 
Recording oft, | what grace each one had found, 
What hope of speed, | what dread of long delays; 
The wild foiest, | the clothed holts with green, 
With reines availed, | and swift-ybreathed horse, 
With cry of hound, | and merry blasts between, 
Where we did chase [ the fearful hart of force, &c. 

But our poets have long since got loose from 
these fetters. Spenser judiciously shook them 
off; Milton in his Paradise Lost, is ever chang- 
ing and mingling his pauses, and the greatest 
writers after him have made it their study to 
avoid what Puttenham regarded as a rule of per- 
fect versification. 

These reflections may serve to shew us, that 
Puttenham, though he lived within about one 
hundred and fifty years of Chaucer's time, must 
have been mistaken with regard to what the 
old writers called their Riding Rhyme; for the 
Canterbury Tales, which he gives as an example 
of it, are as exact in their measure and in their 
pause as in the Troilus and Cresseide, where he 
says, "/Z^f metre is very grave and stately ^^\ and 
this not only in the Knight's Tale, but in the 
comic Introduction and Characters ; as, 



32 Csffifa^fif anil Criticfem0 

A monke ther was | fair for the maistery, 

An outrider | that loved venery/ 

A manly man, | to ben an abbot able, 

Many a dainty horse | had he in stable; (On the 6th.) 

And when he rode, | men might his bridle heare, 

Gingiling in a whistling wind, | as cleare (On the 8th.) 

And eke as loud, as doth the chapell-bell, &c. 

I conclude, that he was misled by the change ; 
which words had undergone in their accents ; 
since the days of Chaucer, and by the seeming ; 
defects of measure which frequently occur in i 
the printed copies. I cannot pretend to say what 
it was they called Riding Rhyme ^ but perhaps it 
might be such as we see in the Northern Tale 
of Sir Thopas in Chaucer. 

Sir Thopas was ] a doughty swaine, 

White was his face, | as pain ^ de maine,' 

His lippis red as rose, | 

His rudd * is like | scarlet in graine, 

And I you tell | in gode certaine 

He had a seemly nose. | &c. 

But nothing can be more regular than this sort 
of stanza, the pause always falling just in the 
middle of those verses which are of eight sylla- 
bles, and at the end of those of six. I imagine 

^ Venerie, Fr. hunting. 

' "When thou beholdest before thy Lord peyne-mayne : 
A baker chosen, and waged well forthe. 
That only he should that businesse applye," &c. 

Alexander Barclay's Eclogues, ^ 

Written in the beginning of Henry y® Sth's reign. M 

^ The whitest bread. * Rudu, Sax. colour of the cheek.' 



(DbflferUations; on dDnslisiJ ^etre 33 

that it was this very regularity which seemed so 
tedious to mine host of the Tahharde^ as to make 
him interrupt Chaucer in the middle of his 
story, with 

No more of this for Goddis dignitfe — 

Mine eares akin of thy draftie ^ speeche, 

Now such a rime the Devil I beteeche,^ 

This may well be clepe Rime Dogrell, quoth he, &c. 

Hence too we see that Puttenham is mistaken 
in the-sense of Rhyme Dogrell^ for so far was it 
from being tied to no rule at all^ that it was con- 
sistent with the greatest exactness in the Caesura 
and in the Measure ; but as he himself has said 
very well in another place, (b. ii. ch. 9,) " the 
over busie and too speedie returne of one man- 
ner of tune doth too much annoy and, as it 
were, glut the eare, unless it be in small and 
popular musickes, sung by these Cantabanqui^ 

* Tedious, from droj^ Sax. dirty, filthy. 

^ Betacan, Sax. to give, or commit to. 

' Doubtless the degenerate successors of those ancient Jon- 
gleurs in Provence, Italy, and other countries described by Cres- 
cimbeni, where he is speaking of the old romances. "Or questi 
Romanzi non v' ha dubbio che si cantavano, e forse non s'inganno 
colui, che fu di parere, che i Romanzatori in panca vendessero 
I'opere loro cantando, imperocche fioriva anticamente in Francia 
un'' arte detta de' Giuglari, i quali erano faceti e spiritosi uomini, 
che solevano andar cantando i loro versi per le corte alle mense 
de' grandi, coll a viuola, o' coU' arpa, o' con altro stromento. — 
Molti de' poeti Provenzali de' primi tempi quest a stessa eserci- 
tarono ed anco de' nostri Italiani, che in quella lingua poetarono." 



34 Cflfsfa^^ anU €tititisimsi 

upon benches and barrels-heads, where they 
have none other audience than boys and country 
fellows, that pass by them in the street ; or else 
by blind harpers or such like tavern-minstrels, 
that give a fit of mirth for a groat ; and their 
matters being for the most part stories of old 
time, as the Tale of Sir Thopas, the reportes of 
Bevis ^ of Southampton, Adam Bell, and Clymme 

(Comentarj del Crescimbeni, 1. v. c. 5, p. 333.) And he cites on this 
occasion these verses in a Romance composed about the year 1230: 
"Quand les tables ostees furent 
Cil Jugleur en pies esturent, 
S'ont Vielles et Harpes prises; 
Chansons, sons, vers, et reprises, 
Et de Gestes chante nos ont," &c. 
These verses are in the Tournoyement d'Antichrist, by Huon 
de Mari, a monk of St. Germain. (Fauchet, 1. i. ch. 8.) 

And Huon de Villeneuve, a writer of the same age, addresses 
himself to the company whom he is going to entertain in these 
words : 

"Gardez, qu'il n'i ait noise, ne tabor, ne cride, 
II est ensinc coustume en la vostre contree. 
Quant uns Chanterres vient entre gent honor^e 
Et il a en droit soi la Vielle attrempee; 
Je tant n'aura mantel, ne cotte desramee, 
Que sa premiere* laisse ne soit bien escout^e: 
Puis font chanter avant, se de riens lor agree, 
Ou tost sans vilenie puet recoillir s'estree," &c. 

* Couple, ou Entree. 

* The English Romance, so called, is in rude verse, seemingly of 
great antiquity. The Italians have one which is named Buovo d* 
Antona, probably on the same story, mentioned by Gio. Villani, 
who died in 1348. (See Crescimbeni, Comentarj, 1. v. c. 6.) 

This English Romance is in free octosyllabic rhyme, written, 



(Dbflferijatiottflf on €n%\iisi^ ^mt 35 

of the Clough, and such other old romances and 
historical rhymes, made on purpose for the re- 
creation of the common people at Christmas din- 
ners and bride-ales in taverns and ale-houses, 
and such other places of base resort," &c. This 
was therefore Dogrell^ whose frequent return of 
rhyme and similarity of sound easily imprinted 
it in the memory of the vulgar; and, by being 
applied of old to the meanest uses of poetry, it 
was grown distasteful to the ears of the better 
sort. 

But the Riding Rhyme I rather take to be that 
which is confined to one measure, whatever 
that measure be, but not to one rhythm ; having 
sometimes more, sometimes fewer syllables, and 
the pause hardly distinguishable, such as the 
Prologue and History of Beryn, found in some 
MSS. of Chaucer, and the Cook's Tale of Gam- 
elyn, where the verses have twelve, thirteen, or 
fourteen syllables, and the Caesura on the sixth, 
seventh, or eighth, as it happens. This having 

as Mr. Thomas Warton observes (in his Observations on the Fairy 
Queen, Lond. 1754, 8vo) in that short measure which was fre- 
quently sung to the harp in Queen Elizabeth's days, a custom which 
descended from the ancient bards (p. 36). Bevis is supposed to 
have been Earl of Southampton about the time of the Norman 
Invasion; his residence was at Duncton in Wiltshire; his sword, 
called Morglay, is kept as a relic in Arundel Castle, not equalling 
in length that of Edward the Third at Westminster. (See Selden^s 
notes on Drayton's Polyolbion, canto iii.) 



36 



(l^00a^fif ano Criticfemsf 



an air of rusticity, Spenser has very well adapted 
it to pastoral poetry, and in his hands it has an 
admirable effect, as in the Eclogue called March, 
which is in the same metre as Chaucer's Tale 
of SirThopas; and in February and May, where 
the two fables of the Oak and Bryer, and the 
Fox and Kid, for humour and expression are 
equal to any thing in our language. The meas- 
ure, like our usual verse of eight syllables, is 
Dimeter-Iambic, but admits of a Trochee, Spon- 
dee, Amphybrachys, Anapaest, &c. in almost 
every place. Thus, 



Seest how brag yon bullock bears . . . 
So smirk, so smooth, his pricked ears ? 
His horns been as bride, as rainbow bent, 
His dewlap as lithe, as Lass of Kent! . . 
See how he venteth into the wind . . . 
Weenest, of love is not his mind ? &c. 

And, 



Trochee in the ist. 
Pure Iambic. 
Anapaest in the 2d. 
The same. 
Anapaest in the last. 
Trochee in the ist. 



Though marked him, with melting eyes, Pure Iambic. 

A thrilling throb from her heart did rise, Anapaest in the 4th [3d]. 

{Amphibrachys in 
the 2d. Tribra- 
chys in the 3d. 
With some old sorrow, that made a new breach, 

{Trochee in the ist. 
Anapaest in the 
3d. , 
The* 5ld lineaments of his Father's grace. ( Anapaest in 2d and 

I 3d. 



(Dbflferbations: on (iBngli^li ^tttt 37 

In these last six lines, the first has eight syllables, 
and the second nine, the third and fourth ten, 
the fifth nine, and the last ten : and this is the 
only English measure which has such a liberty 
of choice allowed in its feet, of which Milton 
has taken some little advantage, in using here and 
there a Trochee in his octosyllabics, and in the 
first foot only of his heroic verses. There are a 
very few instances of his going farther for the 
sake of some particular expression, as in that 
line. 

Burnt after them to the bottomless pit, 

where there is a Spondee in the first place, a Pyr- 
rhic in the third, and a Trochee in the fourth, and 
that line. 

With impetuous recoil and jarring sound, 

with an Anapaest in the first place, &c. 

Spenser has also given an instance^ of the deca- 
syllabic measure with an unusual liberty in its 
feet, in the beginning of his Pastoral called Au- 
gust, thus. 

Then 15, Perigot, the pledge which I plight, 
A mazer ywrought of the maple ware, 
Wherein is enchased many a fair sight 
Of bears and tygers, that maken fierce war, &c., 

* And after him Dr. Donne (in his Satires) observes no regu- 
larity in the pause, or in the feet of his verse, only the number of 
syllables is equal throughout. I suppose he thought this rough 
uncouth measure suited the plain familiar style of satirical poetry. 



38 Cflfflfa^flf anu Critict0tti0 

where there are Trochees, &c. in every foot but 
the last. I do not doubt that he had some ancient 
examples of this rhythm in his memory, when 
he wrote it. Bishop Douglas, in his Prologue to 
the eighth ^neid, written about eighty years be- 
fore Spenser's Calendar, has something of the 
same kind. 

I make no mention of the Hexameter, Sap- 
phic, and other measures which Sir Philip Sidney 
and his friends * attempted to introduce in Queen 
Elizabeth's reign, because they soon dropped into 
oblivion. The same thing had happened in France 
a little before, where, in 1553, Etienne Jodelle 
began to write in this way, and was followed by 
Baif, Passerat, Nicholas Rapin, and others, but 
without success. (See Pasquier,Recherches,l. vii. 
c. 12.) And in Italy this was attempted by 
Claudio Tolomei,^ and other men of learning, 
to as little purpose. (See Crescimbeni, Comment, 
vol. i. p. 21.) 

^ We see from Spenser's Letters, that he himself, his friend 
Mr. Harvey, and Mr. Dyer, one of his patrons, approved of this 
method and practised it. Mr. Drant (he says) had derived the 
rules and principles of the art, which were enlarged with Mr. 
Sydney's own judgment, and augmented with his (Spenser's) 
Observations. This was in 1580. 

^ Bishop of Cor sol a; he flourished in 1540. He was five years 
Ambassador from the Republic of Sienna in France, and died 
soon after his return in 1557. 



THE MEASURES OF VERSE 



The Measures which I find principally in use 
among our writers are as follow, being in 2i\\ fifty- 
nine, 

VERSE. ORDER OF THE RHYMES. 

Decasyllabic. As in Chaucer's 
Prologue to the Canterbury Tales, 
and many of the principal tales 
themselves : his Legende of Good 
Women, &c. 

Lydgate*s Story of Thebes. 

Gawen Douglas's Translation of 
the uiEneid, &c. Spenser, Mother 
Hubberd's Tale, and almost all our 
modern heroic poetry. 

Decasyllabic. Blank ; as. 
The Death of 1 published with Lord 

Zoroas, I Surrey's and Sir T. 

The Death of f Wyatt's Poems in 
1574, 8vo. Anonym. 

Lost and Re- 



Successive, in Coup- 
lets; called by the 
old French writers 
- Rime plate. (See 
Pasquier, Recher- 
che s de la France, 
1. vii, ch. 8. 



Without Rhyme. 
(Versi ^ Sciolti of 
the Italians.) The 
invention ^ is attri- 
buted to Trissino, 
about the year 1525. 



Cicero, 
Milton's Paradise 
gained, &c. 

^ Thus Trissino's Italia Liberata, the Georgic poems of L. 
Alamanni and Rucellai, the Sette Giornate of Tasso, &c. and many 
of the Italian Tragedies are written. It was attempted too by the 
French in the sixteenth century, as Ronsard in some odes, Blaise 
Viginelle in his Seven Psalms, &c. but was soon dropped again. ^ 

' i. e. As far as relates to the verse of eleven syllables, or Italian 



40 



€00a^0 anti Crittci^m^ 



VERSE. 

Stanzas of Four Lines. 

Lord Surrey's Verses written 
in Windsor Castle, Epitaph on Sir 
Thomas Wyatt, &c. 

Dry den* s Annus Mirabilis. 

Spenser. Colin Clout's come 
Home again, and April. Gascoyne's 
Councel on Traveling. His Wood- 
manship. 

Stanzas of Seven, on Three ' Rhymes. 

Chaucer's Man of Honour, Clerk 
of Oxenford, Second Nun and 
Prioress's Tales. Troilus and Cres- 
seide. Assembly of Fowls. An- 
nelida and Arcite. Flower and 
Leaf. Assembly of Ladies. Com- 
plaint of the Black Knight. La- 
mentation of Magdalen. 



ORDER OF THE RHYMES. 



Alternate: called 
by the French, Rime 
croisee, or entrelas- 
see. Whether there 
were two or more 
rhymes which an- 
swered one another, 
as in all which we 
call Stanzas, see 
Fasquier, as above. 



The 1st and 3d. 

— 2d 4th and 5th. 

— 6th and 7th. 



heroic measure. But in shorter verses it had been practised some- 
times by the most ancient writers of that nation, particularly in the 
beginning of the thirteenth century St. Francis wrote an irregular 
ode, or canticle, without rhyme, for music, in no contemptible strain 
of poetry. It begins, 

"Altissimo Signore 

Vostre sono le lodi, 

La gloria, e gli onori," &c. 

(See Crescimbeni, Comentarj, 1. i. c. 10.) 
* There is also a rough stanza of seven, free in its feet, as Ding- 
ley^s Battle of Brampton, in the Mirrour of Magistrates. 



\ 



^\)t ^ea^uresf of ©ersfe 



41 



VERSE. ORDER OF THE RHYMES. 

Stanzas of Seven, on Three Rhymes 
(continued). 

Remedy of Love. Several 
Ballads,^ &c. John Hardy nge's 
Chronicle. 

Gower*s Epistle to Henry the 
4th. 

Occleve, de Regimine Principis. 
Letter- of Cupid. Ballade of our 
Lady. Of Pride, and virast ^ Cloth- 
ing. (In Camden's Remains.) 
Lydgate*s Fall of Princes. Churl 
and Bird. Tale of the Merchant's, 
Ballades, &c. Assemble de Dyeus. 
Gawen Douglas. Prologue to the 
2d and 4th Book of the -^neid. 
Sir David Lyndsay's Testament of 
the Papingo. His Dream. Com- 
plaint of Scotland. Prologue to 
Experience and the Courtier. Fa- 
byan's Ballad Royal on Edward the 
First. W. Caxton's Work on Sapi- 
ence. Angel's Song. Sir T. Wyatt's 
Complaint on Love. The Govern- ■ 

* **The Staff of seven verses hath seven proportions, whereof 
one only is the usual of our vulgar, and kept by our old Poets, 
Chaucer and others, in their historical Reports and other ditties." 
(Puttenham, 1. ii. c. 10.) 

^ This is a part De Regimine Principis. 



The ist and 3d. 

— 2d 4th and 5th, 

— 6th and 7th. 



42 



(IDfifsfai^sf anti Critici^mfli 



VERSE. ORDER 

Stanzas of Seven, on Three Rhymes 

(continued). 
ment of Kings and Princes, Anony- 
mous. 

Spenser's Hymns of Love and 
Beauty. Ruins of Time. Milton's 
Hymn on the Nativity, &c. 

Another Stanza of Seven Lines. 

Some Poems of Chaucer. 
Spenser's Daphnaida. 

Stanzas of Six, on Three Rhymes. 
Chaucer, in some Envoys. Dr. 
Lodge, some Sonnets. Spenser, 
Tears of the Muses, Astrophel, 
December, and part of August. 
Gascoyne's Passion. 

Another Stanza of Six, on Two 
Rhymes. 
Spenser's October. 

Stanza of Eight, on Three Rhymes. 

Chaucer. Monk's Tale. Belle 
Dame sans mercy. Envoys. His 
A. B.C. or Prayer to the Virgin. 
Lydgate's Ballads, &c. 

Scogan's Letter to the Lords of 
the King's House. Spenser's No- 
vember. G. Douglas's Prologue to 
the Sixth ^neid. 



OF THE RHYMES. 



The I St and 3d 

— 2d 4th and 5th. 

— 6th and 7th. 



The 1st and 3d. 
I — 2d 4th and 6th. 
— 5th and 7th. 



Four alternate, and 
the Two last to- 
gether. 



I 



The ist 4th and 6th. 



The I St and 3d. 

— 2d 4th 5th and 
7th. 

— 6th and 8th. 



W\^t ^tnumtn of Wtt^t 



43 



VERSE. 

Another. 



ORDER OF THE RHYMES. 



Some Poems of Chaucer and 
Lydgate. 

Gawen Douglas's Prologue to' 
the Eleventh JEneid. 

Another. ^ 

Spenser's Muiopotmosand Culex. 

Another, on Two Rhymes. 
Spenser's June. 

Stanza of Nine, on Three Rhymes. 

G. Douglas's Prologue to the 
Fifth iEncid, and his Exclamation 
against Detractors. The Third 
Part of the Palice of Honour. 

Sir D. Lindsay's Prologue to 
the Papingo's Testament. 

^ This is the Ottava Rima of the Italians, the Stanza of Ariosto 
and Tasso in their heroic poems, and that of an infinite number 
of authors. It was first introduced in Italy by Boccaccio, who 
wrote in this measure his Teseide, Filostrato, &c. in the fourteenth 
century; though he in reality appears to have borrowed it from 
Thibaut, King of Navarre and Count of Champagne, who had 
written in the same stanza in the year 1235. (See Crescembeni, 
Comentarj, vol. i. 1. v. c. 7, p. 339.) 



The 1st and 3d. 

— 2d 4th 5th and 

8th. 

— 6th and 7th. 



The I St 3rd and 5th. 

— 2d 4th and 6th. 

— 7th and 8th. 



The I St 3d 6th and 

8th. 
— 2d 4th 5th and 

7th. 



The I St 2d 4th and 
5th. 

— 3d 6th and 7th. 

— 8th and 9th. 



44 



(l];0sfa^s; anu Criticiflfm^ 



VERSE. ORDER OF THE RHYMES. 

Another, on Two Rhymes. 

Chaucer* s Complaint of An- 
nelida. G. Douglas's Prologue to 
the Third -^neid, and the two first 
Parts of the Palice of Honour. 



Thei,2,4, 5, andS. 
— 3, 6, 7, and 9. 



Stanza of Five, on Two Rhymes. 

Chaucer's Cuckoo and Nightin- 
gale. Gawen Douglas's Prologue ■ 
to the Tenth -^neid. 



The I St 2d and 5th. 
— 3d and 4th. 



Some 
Verses. 



Another, 
of Sir Thomas Wyatt's 



[ The I St 

i — 2d 41 



Terzetti,' or Terza Rima. 

Lord Surrey's Restless State of 
a Lover. Sir T. Wyatt's [Epist.] 
to J. Poynes, and Sir Fr. Bryan. 
Milton. Second Psalm. 



and 3rd. 
4th and 5th. 



3d 



The I St and 

rhyme 
— 2d 4th and 6th, 
and so on by threes 
alternate, till the 
last and last but 
two, which answer 
like those at first. 



* This is the measure of Dante in his Inferno, &c., of Petrarch's 
Trionfi, &c. The invention has usually been ascribed to the former, 
but there is a Poem (called H Pataffio) extant, written in this very 
measure by Ser Brunetto Latini, who was Dante's master, and who 
died in 1294. It was probably the invention of the Provenfals, who 
used it in ther Syrvientes (or Satires), whence the Italians have 
commonly called it Serventese. See Crescimbeni, Coment. vol. i. 
1. 2, c. 13) 



tEt^e ^eaflfuretf of ^tx&t 



45 



VERSE. ORDER OF THE RHYMES. 

Sonnets of Fourteen, ^ on Five Rhymes. 



Milton's 7th, 9th, loth, and 13th 
Sonnets. 

Another. 



Spenser's Amoretti. 



Another. 

Su- T. Wyatt's Sonnets of the 
Lover waxeth wiser, &c. 

Sonnets of Four Rhymes. 

Milton's Sonnets, 8th, 1 1 th, 1 2th, 
and 14th. 

Another, of Two Rhymes. 
Lord Surrey on the Spring : 
Complaint by Night, &c. 



The 1, 4, 5, and 8th. 

— 2, 3, 6, and 7th. 

— 9th and 12th. 

— loth and 13 th. 

— nth and 14th. 

The I St and 3rd. 

— 2, 4, 5, and 7th. 

— 6, 8,9, and nth. 

— loth and 12th. 

— 13th and 14th. 



8 first lines, as of 
the first sort above. 
4 next alternate. 
Couplet in the end. 



Eight first lines 
as of the first sort, 
or else alternate: 
the six last alter- 
nate, or at pleasure. 

The 12 first alter- 
nate, and end with 
a couplet. 

* This, and the fourth kind, are the true Sonnet of the Italians. 
Petrarch uses only these two measures. The invention of the regular 
Sonnet is ascribed to Fra Guittone d'Arezzo, who flourished about 
the year 1250; nor do we find any of this form among the Provenjals 
till seventy years after. What they called Sonet was only a short 
Canzone, unconfined in the number of verses, the measure, and the 
order of the rhymes. (Crescimb. Cement. 1. ii. c. 14, 15.) 



46 



€fsi^'^& anu Criticfettiflf 



VERSE. ORDER OF THE RHYMES. 

Another, of Seven Rhymes. 

Lord Surrey's Vow to Love. 
On Sir T. Wyatt's Death, &c. 
Daniel's Delia. 



The 12 first by 4 
and 4 alternate. 



Madrigals ofEight, on Three Rhymes. 
Sir T. Wyatt. 
Madrigals on Two Rhymes. 
Sir T. Wyatt. J 

Stanza of Fourteen, on Seven Rhymes. 

Spenser's Visions of Petrarch, 
Bellay, &c. 

Another, on Five Rhymes. 

Spenser, Visions of the World's 
Vanity. 

Sestine, of Six.* 



Six first alter- 
nate; and end with 
a Couplet. 

The 1st 3d 6th and 

8th. 
— 2, 4, 5, and 7th. 



f Li 
] of Sc 



Like the last kind 
Sonnet. 



The I St and 3d. 

— 2, 4> 5» ^^^ 7th. 

— 6, 8, 9, and nth. 

— loth and 12th. 

— 13 th and 14th. 



Spenser, in his August. 



No jjiyme. The 
art consists in ring- 
ing changes on six 
words only, in the 
end of a line: the 
whole is finished in 
six stanzas only, and 
three verses over. 

^ The invention of the Sestine is ascribed to Arnauld Daniel 



Wi^t ^ea0ttre0 of ^tx&t 47 



VERSE. ORDER OF THE RHYMES. 

Decasyllabic, Mixed. 
Stanza of Nine, with an Alexan- 
drine at the end, on Three Rhymes. 
Spenser's Fairy Queen. ^ 



The 1st and 3d. 

— 2, 4, 5, and 7. 

— 6, 8, and 9th. 



Stanza of Eighteen, ^ with 4 
verses (the 5th, i oth, 1 5th, and 1 6th) 



The I, 4, and 5th* 

— 2d and 3d. 

4 next alternate (the 



of Six syllables, and the last an J lot^ answers to 
Alexandrine, on Seven Rhymes. 

Speijser's Prothalamion and Epi- 
thalamion. 



the 9th.) 

— II, 12, and 14th. 

— 13, 15, and 1 6th. 

— 17th and 1 8th. 



in the middle of the twelfth century (see Crescimb. Coment. vol. i 
1. 2, c. 11), and from him the Italians borrowed it, though it must 
be always, both in sense and sound, a very mean composition. 

^ Spenser has also a stanza of eight, ending with an Alexandrine, 
where the ist and 3d rhyme; the 2d, 4th, and 5th; the 6th, 7th, and 
8th, as in Britain's Ida. 

Sir Thomas Wyatt has a stanza of eight, where the 4th and 8th 
are of six syllables; it has three rhymes, the ist, 2d, and 3d answer- 
ing each other; the 4th and 8th; the 5th, 6th, and 7th. 

* These resemble the Canzoni of the Italians, which are in 
stanzas of 9, 12, 13, or 14 verses, &c. in unequal measure. There 
is also a stanza (if it may be called so) not only of mixed measures 
but of an unequal number of verses, sometimes rhyming and some- 
times not, as in Milton's Lycidas, and in the Choruses in his Samson 
Agonistes. 

The Canzone is of very ancient date: the invention of it being 
ascribed to Girard de Borneil, of the School of Provence, who 
died in 1178. He was of Limoges, and was called II Maestro 
de"" Trovatori. The different kinds of Canzoni are infinite, many 
new ones being introduced by the Italians. The most ancient, 
which were extant in that tongue, were written by Folcacchio 
de' Folcacchieri, who lived before the year 1200. Nothing seems 



48 



€i^w^^ and Criticisms; 



VERSE. 

Stanza of Ten. The first an Alex- 
andrine, the four next, and 9th, 
a decasyllabic, sixth and seventh 
octosyllabic, the eighth and tenth 
(being the Refrain or Burthen) 
tetrasyllable. On four rhymes. 

Spenser's Lay, or Elegy of Dido, 
in the November. 

Stanza of Nine. The 1st, 3d, 5th, 
and 6th are decasyllabic, the 2d, 4th, 
7 th, and 8 th are tetrasyllable, the 
last octosyllabic. On four rhymes. 

Spenser's Lay to Eliza, in April. 

Decasyllabic, free in their feet. 

Spenser, Proeme of his August. 
Baldwyn's Complaint of James the 
Fourth, King of Scotland. Donne's 
Satires. 



ORDER OF THE RHYMES, 



The 1st and 3d. 
, — 2» 4> 5» and 9th. 

— 6th and 7th. 

— 8th and loth. 



The I St and 3d. 

— 2d and 4th. 

— 5th 6th and 9th. 

— 7th and 8th. 



In Couplets. With 
Trochees or Iambics 
in every foot indif- 
ferently. 



essential to this species of poetry, but that the measures of every 
stanza should answer to the first, whether they be of equal or of 
unequal measures. It has generally been a rule that the stanzas 
should be not more than fifteen, and the verses in each stanza 
not fewer than nine, nor above twenty; but this rule is very often 
broken. Dante esteemed it the noblest species of poetry, and adds, 
"Quicquid de cacuminibus illustrium Capitum poetantium pro- 
fluxit ad labia, in soJis Cantionihus invenitur." (De Vulg. Eloquent. 
1. ii. c. 3, b. 3.) He said they used all measures from eleven syllables 
to three, but particularly recommends the former, mixed with that 
of seven, which Petrarch has observed and approved. 



tir^e speas^ureflf of WtVfSt 



49 



VERSE. 



The Same, Mixt, in Stanzas of 
thirteen, their four last verses are 
tetrasyllable. On four rhymes. 

G. Douglas, Prologue to the 
Eighth iEneid. 



ORDER OF THE RHYMES. 

The 1, 3, 5, and 7th. 

— 2, 4, 6, and 8th. 

— 9, and 13 th. 

— 10, II, and 1 2th. 

— I call them deca- 
syllabic and tetra- 
syllabic, because 
they have that effect 
on the ear: but as 
they admit of Ana- 
paests, &c., they 
have sometimes 
eleven or five 

syllables. 



Successive in Coup- 
lets. 



Octosyllabic. ' 
The Lord's Prayer, by Pope " 
Adrian, in Henry the Second's time. 
Chaucer's Romaunt of the Rose. 
House of Fame. Book of the 
Dutchess. His Dream. Poem of the 
Owl and Nightingale (as old as the 
time of Henry the Third) . Go wer' s 
Confessio Amantis. Lydgate's 

Story of Thebes. Sir David Lynd- 
say's Dialogue between Experience 
and a Courtier. Romaunce of 
Merlin. 

^ This measure is borrowed from the Welsh, or the Provenjal 
and old French poets, with whom it was common. Robert Man- 
ning of Brunn, who towards the beginning of the fourteenth cen- 
tury translated Peter Langtoft's Chronicle out of the old French 
(or Roman tongue as it was then called) has prefixed a Prologue to 
it in Octosyllabic rhymes, wherein he mentions different kinds of 



50 



€si^d,^ii auD Crtttci0ttt0 



VERSE. 

Another kind. 

Lord Surrey's Restless State of a 
Lover. Means of a happy Life. 
Gascoyne's Good- Morrow. 

Wyatt's Prayer against Disdain; 
Lamentation, &c. 

Another. 
Wyatt*s Renunciation of Love. 

Stanza of Eight, on Two Rhymes. 
Chaucer's Plowman's Tale and 
Prologue. 

Stanza of Eight, on Three Rhymes. 
Chaucer's Ballade in praise of 
Women. 

Lydgate's Complaint of Tho. 
Chaucer. 

Stanza of Seven, on Three Rhymes. 

Wyatt's Suit for Grace. Lover's 
Mistrust, &c. 



ORDER OF THE RHYMES. 



Alternate. 



Four successive 
rhymes. 



Alternate. 



The 1st and 3d. 
^ — 2» 4» 5> and 7th. 
— 6th and 8th. 



The 1st and 3d. 
— 2d, 4th, and 5th. 
— 6th and 7th. 



verse used in his days, as Entrelace, Baston, Couwe, Strangere, &c. 
The first of these is, as I suppose, the Rime croisee or enterlassee 
of the French; the second are unequal verse in Staves or Stanzas, 
answering one to the other. The French still say Baston de Balade 
for Stance de Balade. (See Menage Dictionnaire Etymol. v. Baston.) 
Couwe I take to be derived from the Welsh Cywydd (pronounced 
Couwyth) which is a peculiar stanza and composition of rhyme, 
described by Dr. David ap Rhys, p. 186; it may be perhaps the same 
ivith Chaucer's Tale of Sir Thopas. 



tB^t ^tn&mt^ of iBewe 



51 



4 Alternate. 
" 2 last together. 



VERSE. ORDER OF THE RHYMES. 

Stanza of Six, on Three Rhymes. 
Lord Surrey's Lover's Comfort. 
Complaint of Absence, &c. Gas- 
coyne's Arraignement. 

Stanza of Five, on Two Rhymes. 

TIT- ..^ * u" T i. f The 1st 2d and 4th. 

Wyatt, to his Lute. j-jdandsth. 

Octosyllabic, Mixt. 

Ststhza of Six. The 3d and 6th 
are of six syllables ; on Three 
Rhymes. (Doggerel. ) 

Chaucer' s Sir Thopas . Frere and 
Boy ; Sir Eglamore ; Sir Triamore ; 
The Green Knight ; Sir Lybius 
Disconius. 

Another. With Heptasyllabics 
mixed at pleasure. No Stanzas. 

Milton's Allegro and Penseroso ; 
Part of his Comus ; Epitaph on the 
Marchioness of Winchester. 



The I St and 2d, 

— 4th and 5th. 

— 3d and 6th. 



Successive. 



Octosyllabics, with Verses of Six, 
alternate. 
Spenser's July. Alternate. 

Another, with Verses of Six or Five 

Syllables, alternate. 

Spenser's Roundelay, in August. Alternate. 



52 



(!l;00a^0 ano €tititisim^ 



ORDER OF THE RHYMES. 



Successive. The 
feet are Trochees, 
Spondees, Amphi- 
brachys, and Ana- 
paests indifferently 
with the Iambic. 



VERSE. 

Octosyllabic, Free. 

Spenser's February, May, and 
September. Bevis of Southampton. 
Sir Lambwell. Eger and Grime. 
Sir Degree. Earl of Carlisle. 

Octosyllabic, Free. 
Stanza of Six, Mixt and Free. 
On Three Rhymes. 

Spenser, Proeme of March. 

Octosyllabic, Blank. 
Mixt with others of Six and Four 

Syllables. 

Spenser's Mourning Muse ofl 
Thestylis. f ^° ^^y"^'' 

Verses of Six Syllables. 

Several Songs of Sir Tho. Wyatt 
and Lord Surrey. 

Others in Stanzas of Eight, on [Alternate. 
Two Rhymes. 1 '' 3, 6, and 8th. 



The ist and id. 

— 4th and 5th. 

— 3d and 6th. 



The same. On Three Rhymes. 

Pentasyllable and Tetrasyllabic. 
These are rarely used alone. 



(.2,4, 5, and 7th. 

The 1,3,5, ^'^^ 7*^' 

— 2d and 4th. 

— 6th and 8th. 



W^t £peafliure0 of Wtt^t 53 



Lord Surrey's Ecclesiastes. 
Spenser's Envoy to the Shep- 
herd's Kalendar. 

Drayton's Polyolbion. 



VERSE. ORDER OF THE RHYMES, 

Alexandrines.^ 

Successive. There 
is also a Stanza of 
four Alexandrines 

with alternate 
rhyme, as Phoebe's 
Sonnet in Lodge's 
Euphues' Gold. Le- 
gacy. 

* The Life of St. Margaret in very old Saxon (cited hereafter), 
and written above one hundred and seventy years before Chaucer 
was born, is in a sort of free Alexandrine measure: as is the 
Chronicle of Robert of Gloucester, and Peter Langtoft's Chronicle, 
translated by Robert Manning of Brunn, both of them older 
than Chaucer. The Alexandrine verse took its name from a poem 
written in this measure, called La Vie d'Alexandre by Jean li Neve- 
lois and Pierre de St. Cloit, who lived in the thirteenth century 
(Pasquier, 1. vii. c. 3). The Roman d'Alexandre was begun by 
Lambert li Cors and Alexandre de Paris; but some parts of it were 
executed by the two poets above mentioned. They all four (accord- 
ing to the President Fauchet) wrote between 11 50 and 1 193, in the 
reigns of Louis le Jeune and Philippe Auguste, and seem to have 
been of the Trouveures or Jongleurs, who then were in high esteem : 
their names appear in the work itself. 

" La vertd de I'histoir, si com li Roy la fit, 
Un Clers de Chateaudun, Lambert li Cors, Tescrit, 
Qui de Latin la ^ trest, et en Roman la mit." 

See Fauchet, de la Langue et Poesie Franjoise, 1. ii. (a.d. 1581). 
The Latin, whence they translated, was (I imagine) the Alex- 
andr6is of Gualterus, (or Gautier de Chatillon, a native of Lisle 
in Flanders), a poet who lived about the same time, that is, in 
the middle of the twelfth century. It is observable, that none of 
these four Jongleurs was a Provencal, nor do they write in that 
dialect, yet they are contemporary with the most ancient Provencal 
poets, mentioned by Notredame. 

* tira. 



54 



€isin^si anO Cntictems; 



VERSE. ORDER OF THE RHYMES. 

Alexandrines, mixed with Verses of 
Fourteen Syllables,^ alternately. 

Queen Elizabeth's Ditty on the 
Queen of Scots. Surrey's Descrip- 
tion of Love. Complaint of a Lover. 
Dying Lover. The Warning. The /► Successive, 
careless Man, &c. 

Wyatt's Complaint of Absence. 
Song 2 of lopas. Gascoyne' s Gloze. 

Free Alexandrines, mixed in like 
manner. 3 
Chaucer's Tale of Beryn and Pro- 1 Successive: but 
logue. J with various feet. 

Free Verse,4 of Fourteen Syllables. 
Chaucer's Tale of Gamelin. 
Robin of Portingale ; Ballade of 
Flodden Field ; Adam Bell ; Robin 
Hood ; Nut-brown Maid ; Childe 
Waters ; Durham Field. 



Successive. (Vari- 
ous.) There is also 
a verse of Sixteen, 
as Guy and Phillis, 
Thomas a Potts. 



* **Some Makers (says Puttenham) write in verses of fourteen 
syllables, giving the cesure at the first eight, which proportion is 
tedious, for the length of the verse keepeth the ear too long from its 
delight, which is, to hear the cadence or tuneable accent in the end 
of the verse." 

^ There is also a mixed stanza of four (as in Baldwin's Com- 
plaint of Henry the Sixth, in the Mirrour of Magistrates), three 
verses of twelve and one of fourteen syllables. Rhymes in Couplets. 

^ And thus is written Robert of Gloucester's Chronicle, a work 
of Henry the Third's time, but without any regularity, the Alex- 
andrine sometimes wanting a syllable or two, and the verse of four- 
teen coming in at random, as the writer thought fit. 

* It is the very same measure with the Semi-Saxon moral poem 



turtle ^ea0ures; of WtxfSt 55 

Of all these measures, which we may reduce to 
six, viz. the verse of fourteen, the Alexandrine, 
the decasyllabic, the octosyllabic,^ the heptasyl- 
labic,and verse of six; none are now used but the 
third and fourth ; except it be interspersedly to vary 
our composition, and especially in lyric poetry. 
Our variety too in the rhyme is much circum- 
scribed, never going further than the use of a 
triplet, and that rarely. As to any license^ in the 
feet, ri is only permitted in the beginning of a 
long verse, where we sometimes use a trochee, and 
the same foot more freely in shorter measures. 

The Provencal poets either invented or made 
use of all these measures, from verses of three syl- 
lables to those of eleven and thirteen ; but of these 
last we find no example till about the year 132 1, 



(cited hereafter) written almost two hundred years after Chaucer's 
time. 

There was also the regular verse of fourteen used in Queen Eliza- 
beth's time, and in this measure is written Dr. Phaer's Translation 
of the ^neid; (see Lambarde's Kent and Weever's Funeral Monu- 
ments) Arthur Goldynge's Ovid's Metamorphoses, Chevy Chase, 
Gill Morrice, Glasgerion, Launcelot du Lake, &c. 

^ We now use this as well on serious subjects as comic: the latter 
we call Doggerel, as Hudibras. 

^ We now and then in subjects of humour use a free verse of 
eleven or twelve syllables, which may consist of four Amphi- 
brachees, or four Anapaests, or the first may be an Iambic, &c.j 
so Prior: 

"As Chloe came into the r5om t'other day" — 

"Tis enoijgh that 'tis loaded with, baubles and s€als," &c. 



56 Cflffliapflf atiD Crtticfem0 

so that it is not certain that they were originally 
theirs, or borrowed from the French Alexandrine 
with the addition of a syllable, on account of the 
double rhyme. (SeeCrescimbeni,Comentarj,vol. 
i. 1. 2, c. 14, and 1. i, c. 6.) 



OBSERVATIONS ON THE PSEUDO- 
RHYTHMUS 

The most ancient instance of rhyming verse, 
as Sir W. Temple has observed, is that of the 
Emperor Adrian, about the 137th year of Christ.' 
It was undoubtedly borrowed from the barbarous 
nations, among whom, particularly in the east, 
it is said to have been in use from the remotest 
antiquity. The Welsh still preserve the works of 
the ancient British bards, Taliessin, Benbeirdh, 
and Lomarkk, who lived towards the end of the 
sixth century, and wrote in rhyme. It is possible 
that our ancesters, the Anglo-Saxons, might bor- 
row it from the Britons, but it is much more prob- 
able that they brought it from Germany with 
them. 

* There is a Hymn of St. Augustine, who lived about the year 
410, in which are interspersed several verses which rhyme in the 
middle; as, 
**AbeBt limus, | deest fimus, | lues nulla cernitur, 
Hymens horrens, | aestas torrens, | illic nunquam saeviunt. — 
Virent prata, j vernant sata, | rivi mellis influunt," &c. 

Augustin. Meditat. c. 26. 
And in a treatise written by Theodulus (who lived in 480 under 
the Emperor Zeno), De Contemptu Mundi, are these lines: 
** Pauper amabilis, | et venerabilis, | est benedictus, 
Dives inutilis, | insatiabilis, | est maledictus," &c. 



58 C^flfa^g ano Cnttcis^msf 

It is true that we do not find any rhyming 
verses among them till towards the time of the 
Norman Conquest ; all their poems now remain- 
ing being of a different contrivance, and their 
harmony consisting in alliteration/ or similar 
consonances in the beginning of three or more 
words in each distich ; yet probably they might 
have had our Pseudo-Rhythm^ (as Dr. Hickes and 
Wormius call it) beside this, though their per- 
formances in it are now lost ; which is no great 
wonder, considering that we have not any speci- 
men of their poetry in any kind ^ for three hun- 

* This was the artifice of the Skalds, or old Danish poets in 
their Drotqucet (or vulgar song) described by Wormius, aiid observed 
sometimes strictly, sometimes with more liberty, by our old Saxons, 
both before and after the coming of the Danes. As to the measure, 
Hickes imagines that they had feet and quantity, but, as he owns, 
we have lost the pronunciation, and neither know the power of the 
dipththongs, nor of the vowel e in the end of words; we cannot tell 
of how many syllables their verse consisted; it appears to have from 
four to fourteen indifferently, but most usually from four to eight 
or nine. 

^ That is, from the first settlement of the Saxons in Britain to 
the coming of the Danes. (See Hickes's Gramm. Angl. Sax. c. xix.) 
This is his computation, I know not for what reason; for, from the 
arrival of Hengist, a.d. 449, to the settling of the Danes in North- 
umberland in 867, are 418 years. From that period to the Norman 
Conquest we have a good deal of their poetry preserved, but none 
of it in rhyme: the Ransom of Eigil (preserved by Olaus Wormius) 
written above one hundred and fifty years before the Conquest, is 
however in rhyme, as, ** Vestur kom eg om ver | Enn eg vidris ber j 
Munstrindar mar | So er mitt oflar | Dro eg eik a flot | Vid Isabrot |" 
&c. &c. 



<2^bfifert)ation0 on t\)t ^&m^oM\)^t^mn& 59 

dred and thirty-seven years now preserved, ex- 
cept that fragment of Caedmon the Monk, extant 
in King Alfred's Saxon Translation of Bede's 
History, 1. iv. c. 24, and the Harmony of the 
Evangelists paraphrased in verse, in the Cotton 
Library ; nay, of these two it is doubtful if the 
latter be of that age or not. 

What serves to confirm me in the opinion, 
that, beside their other species of verse, they 
might. also use rhyme occasionally, is this: we 
have still extant in the language of the Franks 
a Paraphrase of the Gospels in rhyme, written 
by Otfrid, a monk of Weisenburgh, scholar to * 
Rhabanus Maurus, abbot of Fulde, before the 
year 876, and addressed^ to Louis, the Germanic 

^ He was made Archbishop of Mentz in 847. His Latino-Theo- 
tische Glossary of the Bible is still preserved in the imperial library 
at Vienna. (See Lambecius, Comment, de Bibl.l. ii. p. 416 and 932.) 

^ A specimen of it, with notes and a Latin version, was published 
in 1701 by Schilterus of Strasburgh. There are also extant the 
Actions of Charlemagne by Stricher, and the Life of Anno, Arch- 
bishop of Cologne, both of them poems in rhyme, in the Franco- 
Theotische tongue, mentioned by Dr. Hickes in his grammar 
of that language, p. 109, and by Lambecius, 1. ii. p. 422, who has 
published Otfrid's dedication of the work above-mentioned, in 
prose, which is very curious. In it he calls his own tongue "barbara, 
inculta, et indisciplinabilis,'''' he complains of its roughness and of 
the variety of its sounds, which the letters of the alphabet could 
not at all express, and adds, "Lingua enim haec velut agrestis 
habetur, dum a propriis nee scriptura, nee arte aliqua, uUis est 
temporibus expolita, quippe qui nee historias antecessorum 
suorum, ut multae gentes caeterae, commandant memoriae, nee 



6o C0sfa^s( anD €tititiiimis 

King of Austria (or East France) in stanzas, 
which begin thus : 

"Lodovig their sndllo That is: Lewis the swift 

Thes wisduames folio: Of wisdom full, 

Er Ostarichi rihtit al He Austrasia rules all 

So Francono Kuning seal. So as a Frankish king 

Ubar Francono lant gizalt becomes, &c. 

So gengit ellu sin giuualt. 
Thas rihtit, so i thir zellu, 
Thiu sin giuualt ellu," &c. 

And as the Saxons and Franks * were near neigh- 

eorum gesta vel vitas exornant dignitatis amore. Quod si raro 
contigit, aliarum gentium lingua, id est, Latinorum vel Graecorum, 
potius explanant." The President Fauchet had seen this poem 
and preface. 

^ The Franks under Clovis settled in Gaul about thirty- 
two years after the arrival of the Saxons in Kent. Hickes tells us 
that the Franco-Theotische and Anglo-Saxon (before the invasion 
of the Danes) were probably the same language. Gramm. Fr. 
Theot. p. 6, see also Carte, vol. i. p. 221.) It seems to appear from 
the words of Otfrid, in his preface, cited above, that the Franks 
of his time did still use some kind of metre distinct from rhyme, 
for he says: "Patitur quoque (Lingua Theotisca) nimium, non 
tamen assidue, synaloephen, et hoc nisi legentes praevideant, ra- 
tionis dicta deformius sonant, literas interdum scriptione servantes, 
interdum vero Ebraicae linguae more vitantes, quibus ipsas literas 
ratione synaloephae in lineis, ut quidam dicunt, penitus amittere 
et transilire moris habetur. Non quo series scriptionis hujus 
metrica sit subtilitate constricta, sed schema homoioteleuton 
assidue quaerit," &c. (Apud Lambecium, 1. ii. c. 5, p. 42^.) 

There are no verses extant in the Romaun, or old French 
tongue, which are known to be more ancient than the middle of 
the twelfth century, and accordingly Fauchet begins his catalogue 
of poets with Maistre Wistace, or Eustace, who wrote the Ro- 
maunce of Brutt, the Trojan, in 1155: it is in octosyllabic rhymes. 

The earliest of the Provencal writers (at least of those who 



(Dbfifertjationsf on tl)r UDsfeuDo^M^^tljmttg 6i 

hours in Germany, and spoke a language only 

have left any memorial behind them) lived about the middle of 
the same century. The Sicilian poets, who first taught Italy to 
■write verse, lived very few years after; and in our own tongue, 
we have, I believe, nothing extant in rhyme that can be with cer- 
tainty judged to be more ancient than the reign of Stephen or Henry 
the Second. The Germans have therefore preserved in their tongue 
the most ancient monument of rhyming poesy, perhaps in Europe, 
almost three hundred years older than any of those which I have 
mentioned. The Welsh poetry only (if the remains of Taliessin 
and Lowarkk be not fictitious) can pretend to a superior antiquity. 
As to the Provencal writers, Crescimbeni observes, "Awi cer- 
tezza, che incominiciassero (i rimatori Provenzali) circa il i loo sotto 
il Guglielmo VIII. duca d'Aquitania, e T istesso duca fosse il primo 
verseggiatore, avendo composto in rima il viaggio di Gerusalemme, 
e qualche cosa amorosa.-' — Non si truovano pero rime piu antiche 
di quelle di Giusfredo Rudello, che molto scrisse in lode della Con- 
tessa di Tripoli, che amo, e appresso cui mori 1' anno 1 162." (Cres- 
cimb. Istor. della Volg. Poesia, 1. i. p. 6.) — Dante, who was born 
in 1265, ascribes the origin of the old romances in prose to the 
French nation, and that of the vol gar e poesia to the Provenf ale. 
"Allegat ergo pro se lingua Oil (that is, the French) quod propter 
sui faciliorem et delectabiliorem vulgaritatem, quicquid redactum 
sive inventum est ad vulgare prosaicum, suum est, videlicet, biblia 
cum Trojanorum Romanorumque gestibus compilata, et Arturi 
Regis ambages pulcherrimae, et quamplurimae aliae historiae atque 
doctrinse. Pro se vero argumentatur alia, scilicet Oc (he means 
the Proven^ale) quod vulgares eloquentes in ea primitus poetati 
sunt, tanquam in perfectiori dulciorique loquela, ut puto, Petrus 
de Alvernia, et alii antiquiores doctores. Tertia, quae Latinorum 
est, (that is, the Italian) se duobus privilegiis attestatur praeesse: 
primo quidem, qui subtilius dulciusque poetati sunt vulgaritery 
hi familiares et domestici sui sunt, puta Cinus Pistoiensis et amicus 
ejus (Dante himself): secundo, quia magis videntur inniti gram- 
maticce, quae communis est." (He means the Latin or mother- 
tongue.) Dante, De Vulgari Eloquentia, 1. i. c. 10. — See also 
Scaligerana 2da. vol. ii. p. 331. 



62 Cflfsfa^s; anU €vititi^ms^ 

differing in dialect, and alike derived from the old 
Gothic mother-tongue, it is likely that the same 
kinds of poetry were common to them both. 

(N. B. It is remarkable that Walafrid Strabo, 
who died in 840, and other writers of that age, 
call themselves Barbari^ and their own language 
Barbarica Locutio. See Goldastus's notes on 
Ekeckardus, Res Alamannicae, torn. i. part i, 

P- 1 13-) 

However, we have not now among us any 

rhymes more ancient than that period, which ex- 
tends from the Conquest in 1066 to the reign of 
Henry the Second, which begun in 11 54; our 
tongue being then much mixed with the Norman- 
Gallic, and degenerating into what Hickes calls 
the Semi-Saxon, as in the Life of St. Margaret.^ 

Olde ant yonge, I preit ou oure follies for to lete^ 
{Old and young, I pray you your jollies for to leave) 
Thenchet on God, that yef ou wit oure sunnes to bete.^ 
(Think on God, that gave you wit your sins to correct.) 
Here I mai tellen ou wid wordes faire ant swete 
(Here I may tell you with words fair and sweet) 
The vie of one meidan was hoten Maregrete. 
{The life of a maiden was hight Margaret.) 
Hire fader was a patriae, as ic ou tellen may, 
{Her father was a patriarch, as I you tell may,) 
In Auntioge wife eches * i the false lay, 

* See other examples in Wanley's Catalogue, in John's or Henry 
the Third's reign, p. 79. 

^ Latan, Saxon, to let, or permit, whence to let alone, to let go. 
^ Betan, Saxon, to amend, to make better. 

* Gecas, Saxon, he chose. 



<Db0eri)attonfl? on tlje J^0mUo^Hl)^tl)mu0 63 

(/n Antioch a wife he chose in the false law) 
Deve godes and doumbe he served nitt ant day, 
(Deaf gods and dumb he served night and day,) 
So deden mony othere, that singet weilaway} 
(So did many others^ that sing wellaway.) &c. &c. 

And in those verses preserved in some MSS. 
in the Bodleian Library, and in Trinity College, 
Cambridge. 

Ic am elder than ic wes, a wintre ant ec a lore, 

(/ am elder than I was, in winters and eke in learning.) 

Ic ealdi more than ic dede: mi wit oghte to hi more, 

(/ grow old more than I did : my wit ought to be more) 

Wei longe ic habbe childe ibien on worde ant on dede, 

(Very long I have a child been in word and in deed) 

Thegh ic bi on winter eald, to giung ic am on rede,^ &c. &c. 

(Though I be in winters old, too young I am in counsel.) 

This is inscribed Parabolae Regis iElfredi. See 
J. Spelman's Life of Alfred, p. 98. 

Other examples of ancient rhyme, w^ithin the 
period assigned, may be seen in Dr. Hickes, ch. 
xxiv. from vt^hom I have transcribed the former. 
Yet though this kind of versification ^ prevailed 

* Wala-wa, Saxon, Woe is me! 

' Rada, Saxon, knowledge. Reed, Counsel. 

' It was towards the end of this period, about ninety years after 
the Conquest, that the Provenfal poetry began to flourish, and 
continued in the highest esteem above two hundred years. They 
wrote in rhyme, and were the inventors of a variety of measures. 
Dante, Petrarca, &c. in Italy; Helinand, William de Lorry, Jean 
de Mehun, Thibaud, Count of Champagne, in France; and 
Chaucer, in our own tongue, first caught their fire from these 
writers, and imitated their manner, style, and versification. (See 
Jean de Ndtredame, Lives of the Provenjal Poets, Lyons, 1575, 8vo.) 



64 (l];s?flfa^0 anu €tititi&mts 

by degrees, and grew into general use, it is cer- 
tain that we retained, even so late as Edward the 

The Sicilians, about the end of the twelfth century, under the reign 
of Robert Guiscard the Norman, King of Naples, first began to 
imitate the Provencal writers in their own tongue, and as the most 
judicious Italians themselves inform us, such as Bembo, Varchi, 
Sansovini, Nicolo Villani, and Crescimbeni. The last of these has 
giren us the names of these first Italian poets: "Le rime de' Sicilian! 
a noi pervenute sono debolissime e scipite ed infelici, a segno 
che non possono leggersi senza estrema noia e rincrescimento, 
ancorche sieno de' piu rinomati, cioe di Guido e d' Odo delle 
Colonne, di Jacopo da Lentino, dell' Imperador Federigo, e d' 
altri loro pari." (Istor. Volg. Poes. vol. i. 1. i, c. 2, p. 91.) He also 
mentions CiuUo dal Camo, and it appears that the art of versifying 
almost instantaneously diffused itself through Italy, from those 
verses inscribed in Gothic letters on a marble at Florence by 
Ubaldino Ubaldini, as early as the year 1184, which begin, 
**De favore isto 

Gratias refero Christo, 

Factus in festo serenae 

Sanctae Mariae Magdalense; 

Ipsa peculiariter adori 

Ad Deum pro me peccatori. 

Con lo mio cantare 

Dallo vero vero narrare \ 

Nulla ne diparto," &c. 
It is not written in distinct verses, as here, upon the marble, but 
like prose, all confused together. (Crescimb. Coment. vol. i. 1. 1, c. 
4, p. 100.) — Dante observes, "Videtur Sicilianutn Vulgare sibi 
famam prae aliis asciscere; ed quod, quicquid poetantur Itali, 
Sicilianutn vocatur. — Quod (i. e. tempore illustrium heroum 
Frederici Caesaris et benegeniti ejus Manfredi,) quicquid excel- 
lentes Latinorum nitebantur, primitus in tantorum coronatorum 
aula prodibat, et quia regale solium erat Sicilia, factum est, quic- 
quid nostri predecessores vulgariter protulerunt, Sicilianum voca- 
tur." (Dante de Vulg. Eloq. 1. i. c. 12.) 
The President Fauchet takes pains to prove that the people of 



a^bfiferbations? on tl^e ^sitnr>oM^^t^mu& 65 

Third's reign, and above a hundred years after, 
our old Saxon or Danish verse without rhyme ; 
for the Vision of Peirce Plowman, a severe satire 

Normandy, of Provence, of Sicily, of Italy, of Spain, &c. all 
borrowed their rhyme from the Franks; and, I own, it wears a 
face of probability: but then it may be equally probable that the 
Franks borrowed it from the Latin church. He cites also the Life 
of Sancta Fides, in the Catalan dialect of the Spanish tongue (it 
is, he says, as old as the year iioo, and in rhyme), which calls the 
rhyming verses a lei Francesco, i. e. a la Franjoise; (see Acad, 
des Inscript. vol. xxvi. p. 638) which is with allowance for some 
changes (which length of time will inevitably introduce in all 
languages) the true i?oma«n-tongue generally spoken throughout 
all the Roman Gaul, for many years before and after it fell into the 
hands of the Franks. This appears from the famous treaty in 
A.D. 843, between the sons of Lodovicus Pius, where the oaths 
in the original tongues (i. e. the Romaun, which was then the 
language of all who lay west of the Meuse, and the Theotische, or 
Frankish, spoken by all the people who lived east of that river,) 
are preserved to us by Nitard, the historian, grandson to Charle- 
magne: the first of these still nearly resembling the Proven- 
cal dialect, was then called Rustica Romano. The Council of 
Tours, assembled in the year 812, has this article: **Quilibct 
Episcopus habeat Omilias, &c. et easdem quisque apert^ tradu- 
cere studeat in Rusticam Romanam linguam et Theotiscom;^'' as 
being then the two languages most generally understood. The 
Provencal was only the Latin tongue corrupted and altered a little 
in its terminations by a mixture of the Celtic or Gaulish idiom, 
and afterwards of the Visigoth and Frankish. In the more northern 
provinces of Gaul it received a still stronger tincture of the latter, 
and of the Norman or Danish tongue, and formed the Valonne, 
or what is now called in France Vieille Gauloise, out of which time 
produced the modern French. But both this and the Provenf ale 
retained alike, till the fourteenth century, the name of Langue 
Romande. (See Fauchet, 1. i. c. 3 and 4. Duclos, Mem. vol. xv. 
p. 565, et vol. ivii. p. 171. De I'Acad. des Inscript. et Huetiana, 
p. 41 and 189. 



66 Cflffifa^s? anU €tititi^m& 

on the times, written by Robert Langland in 
1350? is wholly in such measure, as, for in- 
stance : 

I /oked on my /eft halfe, 
As the /ady me taught, 
And was ware of a woman 
^orthylich clothed. 
Purfiled ^ with pelure,^ 
The finest upon erthe, 
Crowned with a crowne 
The king hath no better; 
Fetislich ^ her /ingers, 
Were /retted with gold wiere, 
And thereon red rubies, 
As red as any glede,* 
And diamonds of Nearest price, 
And Jouble maner saphirs, &c. 
Passus 2 in princip. 

and thus through the whole poem, which is a 
long one, with very few exceptions, the triple 
consonance is observed in every distich. 

Robert Crowley, who printed the first edition 
of Peirce Plowman's Vision in 1550 (dated by 
mistake 1505) says, that Robert Langland, the 
author of it, " wrote altogether in meter, but not 
after the maner of our rimers that write now- 
a-days, for his verses end not alike, for the na- 
ture of his meter is to have at least thre wordes 

^ Pourfile, Fr. bordered. 

^ Pelure, furs, from pellis, Lat. 

' Fetislichf handsomely. 

* Gledf Sax. a burning coal. 



in every verse, which begin with some one, and 
the same, letter. The author was a Shropshire 
man, born in Cleybirie, about eight miles from 
Malverne-Hills : his worke was written between 
1350 and 1409." 

In the same measure is the poem called " Death 
and Life in two fitts; " and another named Scottish 
Fields which describes the action at Flodden 
in Henry the Eighth's time, who was present in 
the action, and dwelt at Bagily. (I read them 
in a MS. Collection belonging to the Rev. Mr. 
Thomas Piercy in 1761.) 

It cannot be supposed possible to fix exactly 
the time when rhyme was first introduced and 
practised in a country ; but if we trace it back 
to the remotest monuments of the kind now ex- 
tant, we shall find the aeras nearly as follows : 

Anno Xti. 

At Rome before the introduction of Christianity 137 

In the Latin Church 420 

In use among the Welsh 590 

Among the Arabs earlier than 6^^ 

Among the Franks, in the old German tongue . 873 

In Provence, in the dialect of the country . . 1100 
In Italy, in the Latin tongue, after the coming of 

the Normans 1032 

In England, in our own tongue, before the year. 1154 

In France, in the French tongue ii55 

In Sicily, and in the rest of Italy, in the Italian 

tongue, before 1187 



68 (l^fi?0a^0 anu €titici^m& 

Any one who considers these several dates, 
and sees that the fathers and priests of the Roman 
church wrote Latin rhyme early in the fifth cen- 
tury, and that the Franks did the same in their 
own tongue in the ninth, will scarcely give credit 
to P. Huet, who affirms, that the Provent^als 
borrowed the art of rhyme from the Arabs. For 
though it is true that the Arabs had practised it 
before Mahomet's time, and perhaps from the 
remotest antiquity, and that they were in posses- 
sion of part of Aquitaine from 732 to 738 ; which 
is the most probable of the two, that the Pro- 
vencals should imitate the taste of a nation wholly 
different from themselves in language, religion, 
and manners, who were but for a small time con- 
versant among them ? or, that they should copy 
the Franks, who had reigned over them above 
two hundred years before the arrival of the Arabs, 
and still continue to do so to this day ? Indeed, 
for my own part, I do believe, that neither the 
one nor the other of these nations was the im- 
mediate object of their imitation, but rather the 
hymns of the church, and the monkish Latin 
verses, which were even^ then in vogue all over 

^ Crescimbeni observes that rhyming verses in Latin epitaphs, 
inscriptions, &c. first appeared in Italy, upon the arrival of the 
Normans, who served under Guimaro, Prince of Salerno, in 1032. 
In that city were composed, about the year 1 100, the famous medical 
precepts of the Schola Salernitana, addressed to Robert, Duke of 



(2^bsfert3ation0 on ttie p^eutio^Hl^^ttimu^ 69 

France at the time, when the earliest Provencal 
writers attempted to rhyme in their own tongue. 
This is the opinion of Crescimbeni(Istor. della 
Poesia, 1. i. p. 13), and it will appear very natural, 
if we consider the near affinity of the Latin and 
Provencal tongues; and that they were accus- 
tomed to Latin rhymes in their books of religion, 
epitaphs, inscriptions, and other compositions of 
the learned in those days. Besides that in many 
old Provencal poems the rhyme not only appears 
at the end, but in the ^ middle of a verse, which 

Normandy, son to William the Conqueror. They are in Latin 
rhyme, thus: 

"Ccena brevis, | vel coena levis | fit raro molesta, 

Magna nocet, | medicina docet, | res est manifesta," &c. 

See also Fauchet (1. i. c. 7.) and Maffei (Journal Italien, t. i.) "On 

ne peut nier que la rime ne tire son origine des vers rimes et Leonins 

de la basse Latinite, connus uniquement dans des siecles barbares." 

^ Latin rhymes, as it may be well imagined, were nothing the 
less esteemed when people began to rhyme in their own tongue; 
indeed they flourished most when the Provenf ale poetry was in its 
dawn. In the year 1154 lived Leonius, a canon of St. Benedict at 
Paris, and afterwards a religious of St. Victor, who, for the age he 
lived in, wrote Latin verse in the regular way not contemptibly, 
as appears both in his elegies and in his heroics on sacred subjects; 
but he too gives in to the taste of those times, and writes epistles 
in rhyme to Pope Adrian the Fourth and Alexander the Third, 
which begin, 

**Papa, meas, Adriane, preces, si postulo digna., 
Suscipe tam vultu placido, quam mente henigna," &c. 
And, 

"Summe Parens hominum, Christi devote Miw/^ter, 
Pastorum pastor, prseceptorumque Ma|r/iter," &c. 
and upon such verses as these (it seems) he built his reputation; 



70 Csfflfa^0 anD Criticfemsf J 

manner was often imitated by the old Italians, 
Rinaldo d' Aquino, Dante da Majano, Guido 
Cavalcanti, and others, and is known by the name 
of " Rima alia Provenzale " (See Crescimbeni, 
Comentarj, vol. i. 1. 2, c. 19, p. 178); and that 
this was the manner of the Latin rhymers is 

so that they have ever since borne the name of Leonine verses; 
and the rime riche (or double rhyme) even in French verses was 
of old called ryme Leonine, or Leonime. The ancient Fabliau des 
trois Dames has these lines: 

**Ma peine mettray, et m'entente, 
A conter un fabliau par ryme 
Sans coulour, et sans Leonime,'''' &c. 

So that the rhyme-female was not looked upon as a rhyme of 
two syllables. An old book, printed in 1493, Jntitled, "L'Art et 
Science de Rhetorique pour faire Rhymes et Ballades," says, "Ryme 
Leonisme est, quand deux dictions sont semblables et de pareille 
consonance en syllabes, comme au chapitre de jalousie, de Jean 
de Meung: 

"Preude femmes, par St. Denis, 
Autant est, que de Fenis," &c. 

But the word Leonimetes was more particularly applied (it seems) 
to such rhymes as run uninterrupted for many lines together; for 
the Life of St. Christina, written about the year 1300, after rhyming 
in couplets throughout, finishes with these lines: 

"Seigneurs, qui en vos livres par maistrie metez 
Equivocations et leonismetez. 
Si je tel ne puis faire, ne deprisiez mon livre, 
Car qui a trouver n'a soubtil cuer et delivre, 
Et leonismete veult par tout a consuivre 
Moult souvent entrelest, ce qu'il devoit en suivre.** 

(See Fauchet, 1. i. c. 8, and Pasquier, I. vii. c. 2. Menage 
Dictionnaire Etymol. v. Leonins. Jul. Scaliger Poetice. Naude 
Mascurat, p. 332.) 



&}itt\)Uion& on ti^t ^^tnr^oMf^^t^mn^ 71 

plain from the Schola Salernitana, the Epitaph of 
Roger, Duke of Sicily, in iioi ; 

Linquens terrenas | migravit dux ad amoenas 
Rogerius sedes, j nam caeli detinet aedes: 

and the poem De Contemptu Mundi, written by 
Bernard, a monk of Cluny, about 1125, in this 
measure : 

Hora novissima, tempora pessima sunt, vigi/emus: 
Ecce minaciter imminet arbiter ille Supremus! &c. 

• Fauchet, 1. i. c. 7. 

Observe, that, if the date of this poem be true, 
the general opinion, that the Leonine verse owes 
its name to Leonius, seems to be false ; for Ber- 
nard, in a preface prefixed to his own work, calls 
his own measure " genus metricum, dactylum 
continuum, exceptis finalibus, trochaeo vel spon- 
daeo,tum etiam sonoritatem Leoninicam servans:" 
and he mentions Hildebert de Laverdin, Bishop 
of Mans and afterwards of Tours, and Wichard, 
a canon of Lyons, as having written a few things 
in this measure before him. It is not therefore 
very likely, as Leonius flourished in 1154, that 
he should give name to such Latin verses upwards 
of thirty years before. Indeed some people have 
thought that it was called after Leo, probably 
the Second, who lived in 684, a pope who is said 
to have reformed the hymns and the music of 
the church. (See Fauchet, 1. i. c. 16.) 



72 €&iw^^ anti Cntici^nifii 

What makes it still more probable that the 
ancient verses in Latin rhyme might give rise to 
the Provencal and Italian poetry is that mixture 
of different languages which appears in some old 
conipositions, namely, the canzone of Rambald 
de Vacheres (before the year 1226) in five sev- 
eral tongues, the Provencal, Tuscan, French, 
Gascon, and Spanish ; the strange rhymes of 
Ubaldino the Florentine ; the canzone of Dante, 
which begins, 

Provens. Ahi faulx ris, per qe trai haves 
Lat. Oculos meos ? et quid tibi feci, 

Ital. Che fatto m' hai cosi spietata fraude ? &c. &c. 

and the great work, or La Divina Comedia, of the 
same poet. 



SOME OBSERVATIONS ON THE USE 
OF RHYME 

The oldest instance which we have of rhyme 
IN OUR TONGUE (if it be genuine) is that Tenure 
of the manor of Cholmer and Dancing, pre- 
served in the Exchequer Rolls de anno 1 7 Edw. 
2di,(at which time I suppose it was lodged there,) 
being the Grant of Edward the Confessor to 
Randolph Paperking. It begins : 

Iche, Edward Konyng, 

Have geven of my forest the keeping 

Of the hundred of Cholmer and Dancing 

To Randolph Paperking, and his kindling. 

With heort and hynd, doe and bocke, 

Hare and fox, cat and brocke, 

Wilde fowell, with his flocke. 

Partridge, Fesaunt-hen, and Fesaunt-cocke, 

With grene and wild stob and stocke, 

To kepen and to yemen by all her might, &c. 

That King began his reign in 1043, ^"^ ^^^^ 
grant must have been made before 1051, when 
Earl Godwyn rebelled ; for Swein, the eldest son 
of Godwyn, and brother to Edward's wife, is 
named as a witness to it. From that time he was 
in arms against the king till he went to the Holy 
Land, whence he never returned. It is to be ob- 
served, that he is here called Swein of Essex (see 



74 €si&w^& anH €xititifsmsi 

Camden) ; yet in reality not he, but his brother 
Harold, was earl of that county and East Anglia: 
which is a circumstance that may give cause to 
suspect the antiquity of this rhyming donation. 
There is another of the same sort preserved by 
Stow in his Chronicle, and transcribed more per- 
fectly by Blount (in his Ancient Tenures, p. 102) 
from a manuscript belonging to Robert Glover 
in Com. Salop : 

To the heyrs male of the Hopton lawfully begotten, &c. 

There is also a poetical History of Great Brit- 
ain extant, about the age of Henry the Third, 
written in Saxon verse without rhyme : it begins 
thus : 

A preost wes in leoden 

(A priest was in the people^ 

Lazamon wes ihoten 

{Lazatnon was hight) 

Lithe him beo drihten 

(Gentle to him be the Lord/) Sec. 

And another in like measure, as old as Henry 
the Second or Richard the First, on King Alfred, 
as follows : 

At Sifforde ^ set en 
(At Siford sate) 
Theines manie 
(Thanes many) 
Fele ^ biscopes 
(Many bishops) 

* Seaford, near Oxford. ^ Fehf Saxon, manj. 



^bfl(erl3ation0 on t\)t Wisit of IXl^^mt 75 

Fele bok-lered 
{Many book-learned) 
Erles prude 
{Earls proud) 
Cnihtes egeleche^ 
{Knights awful) 
Ther was Erl Alfric 
{There was Earl Alfric) 
Of the lage swuthe wis 
{Of the law very wise) 
Ec Alfrede Engle hirde 
{Eke Alfred England''s shepherd) 
• Engle dirling 

{England's darling) 
On Engelonde he was king 
{In England he was king) 
Hem he gan laren 
{Then he began to learn) 
Swo he heren mighten 
{So as they hear might) 
Hu hi here lif 
{How they their life) 
Leden scolden 
{Lead should) &c. 

There is a large fragment of this poem printed 
in J. Spelman's Life of Alfred, fol. Oxon., 1678, 
p. 96. 

In the same manuscript volume, with the first 
of these specimens, are preserved " The Conten- 
tion of the Owl and Nightingale," in rhyming 
verse of seven syllables, and "The Poem on 
Death," &c. in octosyllabic rhyme. 

Ich was in one sumere dale 
(/ was in a summer dale) 

^ Egeslice, Saxon, Egesa, dread, fear. 



76 Cfl?0ai^sf anU €xititifsimti 

In one snwe ^ digele ^ hale 

(^In a hollow secret hole) 

I herde ich holde grata tale 

{Heard I hold great talk) 

An hule and one nightingale 

{An owl and a nightingale) 

That plait was stif and stare' and strong 

(The plea was stif, and tight and strong) 

Sum wile soft and lud among 

{Some while soft and loud among) 

And other agen other sval * 

{And either against other raged) 

And let that whole mod ® ut al 

{And let what would their anger out all) 

And either seide of otheres cust 

{And either said at the others cost) 

That alere worste that hi wuste ' 

{All that ever worst they thought) 

And hure ^ and hure of othere song 

{And whore and whore each of the other sung) 

Hi holde plaidung suthe stronga 

{They hold pleading very strong) &c. 

ON DEATH, ETC. 

Non mai longa lives wene,^ 
{None may long lives ween) 
Ac ofte him lieth the wrench ' 
{But oft for him lieth the snare) 

* Perhaps from snidan, to hew and hollow out. 
' Digel, Saxon, secret. 

^ I imagine it should be stare : Saxon, stiff and hard; by a meta- 
phor, inflexible and obstinate. 

* Swalan, Saxon, to kindle, to burn. 

* Mod, Saxon, mood, spirit. 

' Wis, Gewis, Saxon, knowing, prudent. 

' Hure, Saxon, a whore, from hyran, to hire. 

* Wenan, Saxon, to suppose. 

' Wrence, Saxon, a trap or wile. 



(j^b^erbattons; on ttie tias?e of Hl^^me n 

Fair wether turneth oft into reine 
{Fair weather turneth oft into rain) 
An wunderliche hit maketh his blench 

Tharfore, man, thu the biwench ^ 
(Therefore, Man, thou thee beware;) 
Al shal falewi ^ the gren 
(All shall fade away thy green) 
Weilawai nis kin ne quene 
(Wellaway there is nor king nor queen) 
That ne seal drinche of deathes drench 
(That shall not drink of Death''s drench) 
Mon er thu falle of thi bench 
(Man ere thou fall o^ thy bench) 
Thine Sun thu aquench ^ 
(Thy Sun thou quench) &c. 

See also Pope Adrian the Fourth's Paraphrase 
of the Pater-noster, sent to Henry the Second, 
King of England (in Camden's Remains), and 
the Poetical Version of the Psalms (of Edward 
the Second's time) cited by Selden in his Titles 
of Honour, p. i. c. 3. The same may be seen in 
Weever's Funeral Monuments, p. 152 ; see also 
Scotch rhyme on Edward the First, and the 
answer (ibid. p. 458); Robert of Gloucester's 
Chronicle. 

Note. — It appears from a story told by Ek- 
kehardus junior, a monk of St. Gall, in his his- 

* Perhaps from Bewerigan, Saxon, to beware. 
^ Falewe, Saxon, a yellow colour. 
^ AcwencaUf Saxon, to quench. 



78 C^flfa^sf anJ) €tititi^m& 

tory of that monastery, that early in the tenth cen- 
tury the children who were educated there were 
taught to make Latin rhymes without regard to 
quantity and metre, and also verses strictly metri- 
cal in the same tongue. Ekkehardus says, that 
when Solomon, Bishop of Constance, a little be- 
fore his death, came into their school, the boys 
addressed him in both these manners : " Parvuli 
Latine pro nosse (perhaps, prosaice)^ medii rhyth- 
mice, caeteri vero metrice, quasi pro rostris rheto- 
rice etiam afFantur j quorum duorum (quoniam a 
patribus verba recepimus) unus inquit, 

Quid tibi fecimus tale, \ ut nobis facias male? 
Appellamus regent, \ quia nostram fecimus legem : 

at alter versificator inquit, 

Non nobis pia spes | fuerat, cum sis novus hospes, 
Ut vetus in pejus \ transvertere tute velis jus:'''' 

this prelate died in the year 919. 

As to those rhyming epitaphs of Ethelbert, 
King of Kent,Laurentius the second Archbishop 
of Canterbury, &c. said by Weever (pp. 241 and 
246) to be inscribed on their monuments, in the 
church of St. Austin's at Canterbury, they would 
carry back the date of Latin rhyme as far as the 
beginning of the seventh century, in England, 
but I suspect they are of a later date, written 
perhaps in the time of Abbot Scotland, soon after 



a^bsferbationsf on tlie Wifs^t of W^^mt 79 

the Conquest ; who, I find, rebuilt a great part 
of the church, and removed many of the ancient 
kings and abbots from the place in which they 
were first interred into the choir, where he 
erected princely monuments over them. (Weever, 

P- 253-) 



ADDITIONAL OBSERVATIONS AND 
CONJECTURES ON RHYME 

(From an Essay entitled "Cambri" the following Remarks are 
selected as relating to the subject of Rhyme.) 

In the most ancient of the British poets and 
others, it appears that the Cambri^ or Welsh, 
originally called themselves Prydhain^ and their 
country Inis Prydhain, the Isle of Britain. The 
inhabitants of Wales removing their cattle and 
habitations from place to place, (which is still 
practised in some mountainous parts, and was so 
universally in former ages,) after the custom was 
disused in England, were called Wallenses, from 
Walen^ a word synonymous to that of Nomades. 
(See Carte's Hist. vol. i. p. 5, and p. 108.) 

The Druidical compositions, which served as 
a model to Taliessin, Llywark, and others of the 
most ancient and best of the British poets, whose 
works are preserved, and have since served for 
the foundation of that excellent prosodia which 
they have in the Welsh grammar, and which is 
perhaps the finest that any language affords, were 
admirably contrived for assisting the memory. 
They were all adapted to music, every word be- 
ing harmonious, the strongest and most express- 



attJiJitional (Db^erliacionsf on Hi^^mf 8i 

ive repeated in a beautiful manner, and all of 
them ranged in an order established by rules well 
known and universally received in such com- 
positions ; each verse so connected with, and 
dependent on, those which either preceded or 
followed it, that, if any one line in a stanza be 
remembered, all the rest must of course be called 
to mind, and it is almost impracticable to forget 
or to mistake in any. "The British poetry, as 
well as the language, hath a peculiarity which no 
other language perhaps in the world hath ; so that 
the British poets in all ages, and to this day, call 
their art Cyfrinach y Beirdd^ or ' The Secret of 
the Poets.' Knowing this art of the poets, it is 
impossible that any one word of the language, 
which is to be found in poetry, should be pro- 
nounced in any other manner than is there used ; 
so that without a transformation of the whole 
language, not one word could be altered." 

These are the words of a very judicious anti- 
quary, Mr. Lewis Morris, perfectly well versed 
in the ancient British poets. He adds, though at 
first sight it may be naturally thought that their 
poetry is clogged with so many rules, that it is 
impossible to write a poem of common sense in 
the language, yet the vast number of flexions of 
consonants in it, and the variations of declensions, 
&c. make it almost as copious as four or five 



82 (iB^sia^fi; anD Cntici0m0 

languages added together; and consequently a 
poet in the Cambrian language, notwithstanding 
the strictness of his rules, hath as great a scope 
and use of words as in any other tongue whatso- 
ever, as will appear from a perusal of the British 
poets. (Ibid. p. 33.) 

This " Secret of the Poets " is explained to us 
at large by David ap Rhys (or Rhaesus) in his 
" Linguae Cambro-Britannicae Institutiones," 
p. 146, Lond. 1 592, 4to. They had nine different 
measures from verses of three to those of eleven 
syllables, each distinguished by its proper ap- 
pellation. Some of them have been from a very 
remote antiquity common among us in the Eng- 
lish tongue, and not improbably might have been 
borrowed from the Britons, as I am apt to believe, 
that the use of rhyme itself was. I was once, I 
own,of Crescimbeni's opinion, that it was derived 
from the Roman Church in its hymns, and thence 
passed to the people of Provence. But if we con- 
sider that, some i^w slight traces of rhyme among 
the Romans excepted, there is nothing of their 
hymns, or sequentiae, written in that manner 
earlier than the time of Pope Gregory the Great, 
in the end of the sixth century ; and at the same 
time that it was regularly and very artificially 
practised among the Britons in a variety of meas- 
ures, and these too of a peculiar contrivance. 



;9iDtiitional (^hstt\)ntiom on W^^mt 83 

and (as men of letters acquainted with the lan- 
guage assure us) full of poetical spirit and enthu- 
siasm : if we consider also how well adapted the 
division and rhyme of their poetry is to assist the 
memory, and that the British Druids (once the 
priesthood of the nation) delivered all the pre- 
cepts of their doctrine in verse, which never was 
to be committed to writing, we may easily enough 
be induced to believe that these bards of the sixth 
century practised an art which they had received 
by tradition from the times of the Druids, and, 
though the precepts of their superstition had been 
laid aside and forgotten at the introduction of 
Christianity, yet the traces of their harmony did 
remain. 

That the Saxons, who had no rhyme among 
them, might borrow both that and some of the 
measures still in use from their neighbours the 
Britons, seems probable to me, though at what 
time they did it is very uncertain. For above one 
hundred and fifty years after the Saxon invasion 
the two nations had no other commerce than 
in the rough intercourse of war, and seemed to 
breathe nothing but inextinguishable hatred and 
mutual defiance. But Christianity (it is likely) 
something softened their spirits, and brought the 
Britons to regard their bitter enemies, who were 
now no longer pagans, as their brethren and their 
fellow-creatures . 



84 (Q;00a^0 anU €tititifim$ 

If any one ask, why (supposing us to have 
first borrowed our rhyme from the Britons) no 
memorial of it is left in England earlier than the 
Conquest, nay, perhaps than Henry the Second's 
reign, which is about four hundred and fifty years 
after our connection with the Welsh, I answer, 
the fact is not certainly true ; for there are some 
few rhymes recorded as old as the beginning of 
the tenth century, witness Athelstan's donation 
to Beverley Minster ; and, in the succeeding cen- 
tury, the freedom of Coventry granted to Earl 
Leofric, and the Tenure of Cholmer and Danc- 
ing in Essex, attributed to Edward the Confessor. 
But if these should be only the fictions of after- 
ages, can any one tell me why the Franks, who, 
as we know, wrote rhyme in their own ^ tongue 

^ As we have no reason to imagine that the Gothic nations of the 
north made any use of rhyme in their versification, and as the 
Franks appear to be the first who practised it (three hundred and 
fifty years after they conquered Gaul), it seems highly probable 
that they borrowed it from the natives of this country, to whom it 
must have been familiar at least three hundred years before. For, 
as we know that the Britons had it so early, who spoke the same 
tongue with the Gauls, and delivered to them the precepts of their 
religion and philosophy in verse, these latter could not possibly be 
ignorant of their poetry, which they imitated in their own country. 
Nor is it probable that the government of the Romans had obliter- 
ated all traces of their ancient arts and learning in the minds of the 
Gauls, since it had not made them forget their ancient language. 
It is plain, that in the fifth century the Arverni still spoke the Celtic 
tongue, from a letter of Sidonius ApoUinaris (1. iii. ep. 3), and that 
it was still understood in the ninth century, appears from the Life 



atuittonal (^h&tx\intion^ on W)^mt 85 

in the ninth century, should have nothing to 
produce of rhyme in the French or Provencal 
language till almost two hundred and fifty years 
afterwards ? Why have they no monument at 
all, preserved in their ancient tongue, of the 
Gothic poetry, though for so many years they 
bordered on the Anglo-Saxons in Germany who 
practised it, a people of like origin and manners, 
and who probably spoke the same tongue ? Why 
have these Saxons themselves, for above three 
hundred years after they landed in this island, no 
verses of this sort remaining, but a small frag- 
ment of Caedmon, preserved in a book of King 
Alfred's? Why have the Normans nothing at 
all of this kind extant among them after their 
arrival in France ? Who can account for the ca- 
price of time, and shew why one monument has, 
and another has not, escaped the wreck of ages ? 
Perhaps rhyme might begin among the common 
people, and be applied only to the meaner species 
of poetry, adages, songs, and vulgar histories, 
passing by tradition from one to another ; while 
the clergy and others, who possessed what litera- 
ture there was in the nation, either wrote in the 
Latin tongue, or in the measures peculiar to their 

of St. Germain, written in the reign of Charles the Bald, by Heric, 
a monk of Auxerre, wherein he interprets the names of several cities 
in Gaul. (See Memoires de TAcademie des Inscriptions) vol. zx. 
pp. 43 and 44.) 



86 C00ai?0 ani) €tititi^m$ 

country and language, which by a very natural pre- 
judice they would prefer to those of a conquered 
people, especially as poesy had been cultivated 
among them, and in the highest esteem for ages 
past ; and their Scalds were as necessary in their 
armies, and in the courts of their princes, as 
either Druid or bard among the Britons. After 
the Normans came over, and had introduced so 
much of the French (or Roman) tongue among 
us, rhyme must of course grow prevalent and 
familiar in England, especially when Henry the 
Second (himself an Angevin, and educated in 
France) had married the heiress of Aquitaine, 
where the Provencal school first began about 
fifty years before, and was at that time in the 
highest reputation. 



SOME REMARKS ON THE POEMS 
OF JOHN LYDGATE 

John Lydgate was born at a place of that 
name in Suffolk, about the year 1370. 

I followed after, forduUed for rudeness, 
More than three score yeres set my date. 
Lust^ of youth, passed his freshenesse, 
* Colours of rhetorike, to help me translate, 
Were faded away; I was born in Lydgate 
Where Bacchus' licour doth ful scarsely flete, 
My dry soul for to dewe and to wete. 
Prologue to Book viii. by Bochas on the Fall of Princes. 

This work, he tells us, was begun while Henry 
the Sixth was in France, where that King never 
was but when he went to be crowned at Paris 
in 1432, so that if Lydgate were then upwards 
of threescore, he must have been born at the time 
I have assigned ; and Tanner says that he was 
ordained a deacon in 1393, which is usually done 
in the twenty-third year of a man's age. He was 
a monk of the Benedictine order at St. Edmund's 
Bury, and in 1423 was elected prior of Hatfield- 
Brodhook, but the following year had license to 
return to his convent again. His condition, one 
would imagine, should have supplied him with 
the necessaries of life, yet he more than once 
complains to his great patron the protector, 



88 €^sin^& anU Criticfemsf 

Humphry, Duke of Gloucester, of his wants, 
and he shews, particularly in the passage above, 
that he did not dislike a little more wine than the 
convent allowed him. 

After enumerating the principal English poets 
who lived before him, whose merit he does not 
pretend to equal, he says. 

But I, who stand low downfe in the vale, 

So grete a booke in Englyshe to translate, 

Did it by constrainte, and no presumption, 

Born in a village, which is called Lydgate 

By olde time a famous castel towne, 

In Danes time it was beate down, 

Time what St. Edmund's martir, maid and king. 

Was slaine at Oxford, recorde of writing, &c. Epilogue. 

There are a few other things in this work of 
Lydgate's which have no connection with his 
merit as a poet, but are curious as they relate to 
the history and manners of the times in which 
he lived. Thus in book viii. c. 24, we see that 
wine was still made in England in Henry the 
Sixth's reign, and that Hampshire was famous 
for it ; so that the reason assigned for neglecting 
the culture of vines, I mean, that we could have 
so much better wines from our French domin- 
ions, is not true; and indeed a few years after this 
we lost all our conquests and territories in that 
country. 

London ^ hath shippis by the sea to saile, 
Bacchus at Winchester greatly doth availe, 

^ It may be worth while to compare this passage with a similar 



Kematt^ on ^otm& of 3|ot)n fl^ogate 89 

Worcester with fruits aboundeth at the full, 
Hertford with beastis, Cotiswold with wooll. 

Bath hath hot bathes holesome for medicine, 
Yorke mighty timber for great avauntage, 
Comewall miners in to mine, — 
And Salisbury has beastes full savage, 
Wheate meale and hony plentie for every age: 
Kent and Canterbury hath great commoditie. 
Of sondrie fishes there taken in the sea. 

We may remark too the notion then current 
in Britain, that King Arthur was not dead, but 
translated to Fairy-Land, and should come again 
to restore the Round Table: 

This errour ^ abideth yet among Britons, 
Which founded is upon the prophesie 

one in Robert of Gloucester, who wrote (near two hundred years 
before) in the days of Henry the Third. 

In the country of Canterbury most plenty of fish is, 
And most chase of wild beasts about Salisbury, I wis, 
And London ships most, and wine at Winchester, 
At Hartford sheepe and oxe, and fruit at Worcester, 
Soape about Coventry, and iron at Glocester, 
Metall, lead, and tinne in the countie of Exeter, 
Everwicke * of fairest wood, Lincolne t of fairest men, 
Cambridge and Huntingdon most plentie of deep venne, 
Elie of fairest place, of fairest sight Rochester, &c. 

(In Camden's Remains, p. 8.) 
* Eboracunt, York. 

t Testis Lincolnie, gens infinita decore. 
Testis Ely formosa situ, Roucestria visu. 

(Liber Costumorum.) 
^ Peter of Blois, who lived in 1 170, says ironically, in his EpistleSi 

*'Quibus si credideris, 
Expectare poteris 
Arturum cum Britonibus/* 



90 €si&n^$ anD Criticising 

Of old Merlin, like their opinion; 

He as a king is crowned in faerie, 

With scepter and sworde, and with his regalie 

Shall resort as lord and soveraine 

Out of faerie, and reigne in Britaine, &c. 

B. viii. c. 24. 

And we may remark also the opinion, then pre- 
vailing, that a decisive victory was a certain proof 
of the justice of the conqueror's cause, which was 
but natural among a people which for ages had 
been taught to refer even civil causes to a deci- 
sion by combat. 

It seems that Lydgate was little acquainted 
with the Latin tongue, whatever he might be 
with the Italian and French, in which Bishop 
Tanner says he was well skilled, having travelled 
in both those countries ; for he says himself, 

I never was acquaintedde with Virgile, 

Nor with the sugared ditties of Homere, 

Nor Dares Phrygius withe his goldenne stile, 

Nor with Ovide in poetry most entere. 

Nor with the sovereign ballades of Chauc&re, 

Which, amonge all that ever were redde or sunge. 

Excelled all other in our Englishe tungue. 

I cannot ben a judge in this mattere, 
As I conceive, following my fantaisie; 
In moral matter notable was Gowere, 
And so was Strode in his philosophic, 
In perfite living, which passith poesie, 
Richard Hermite, contemplatif of sent&nce, 
Drough in Englishe, the Pricke of Conscience. 

As the gold-crested brighte summer-sunne 
Passith other sterres with his hemes cleare, 
And as Lucina chases sates downe 



t 



Kemarkfi? on poems? of 31ot)n fl^JJgate 91 

The frostie nights when Hesperus doth appere, 
Righte soe my master hadde never peere, 
I mean Chaucere in stories, that he toide, 
And he also wrote tragedies olde. 

But this perhaps ^ is only an affectation of great 
humility and modesty, which was common to all 
these ancient writers ; for however little he might 
be acquainted with Homer and Virgil, it is certain 
that he was very much so with Chaucer^s com- 
positions, whom he calls his master, and who (as 
I imagine) was so in a literal sense. It is certain 
that Lydgate was full thirty years of age when 
Chaucer^ died. But whatever his skill were in the 
'learned languages, it is sure that he has not taken 
his " Fall of Princes *' from the original Latin ^ 

^ So in Machabrees Daunce of Death, paraphrased from the 
French, he says: 

**Have me excused, my name is John Lydgate, 
Rude of language; I was not born in France, 
Her curious metres in Englishe to translate: 
Of other tongue I have noe suffisaunce." 

' See Lydgate's Life of the Virgin Mary, cap. xxxiv. and in 
"The Pylgrimage of the Soul," printed by Caxton, 1483, c. xxxiv. 
which is the same, and seems to shew this latter translation to be 
Lydgate's also. 

' Boccacius, de Casibus Dlustrium Virorum is (like the rest of 
his Latin works and those of his master Petrarch) now little read 
or esteemed by any body; it is written in a kind of poetical prose; 
the parties concerned are introduced as passing in review before 
him, as in a vision, and recounting their ovm catastrophe, and it is 
interspersed with the author's moral reflections upon each of their 
histories. 



92 €iim^^ anD Critici^mflf 

prose of Boccaccio, but from a French transla- 
tion of it by one Laurence, as he tells us himself 
in the beginning of his work. It was indeed rather 
a paraphrase than a translation, for he took the 
liberty of making several additions, and of recit- 
ing more at large many histories, which Boccac- 
cio had slightly passed over: 

And he ^ sayeth eke, that his entencyon 
Is to amend, correcten, and declare, 
Not to condemne of no presumpcyon, 
But to supporte plainly and to spare 
Thing touched shortly of the storie bare, 
Under a stile briefe and compendious. 
Them to prolong when they be virtuous. 
For a storye which is not plainly tolde, 
But constreyned under wordes few. 
For lacke of truth, wher they ben new or olde, 
Men by reporte cannot the matter shewe: 
These oakes greatfe be not down yhewe 
First at a stroke, but by a long processe, 
Nor long stories a word may not expresse. 

These " long processes " indeed suited wonder- 
fully with the attention and simple curiosity of 
the age in which Lydgate lived. Many a stroke 
have he and the best of his contemporaries spent 
upon a sturdy old story ^ till they had blunted their 
own edge and that of their readers ; at least a 
modern reader will find it so : but it is a folly to 
judge of the understanding and of the patience of 

* i. e. Laurence. 



Kemarksf on poem0 of 31ol)n il^ugate 93 

those times by our own. They loved, I will not 
say tediousness, but length and a train of circum- 
stances in a narration. The vulgar do so still : it 
gives an air of reality to facts, it fixes the atten- 
tion, raises and keeps in suspense their expecta- 
tion, and supplies the defects of their little and 
lifeless imagination ; and it keeps pace with the 
slow motion of their own thoughts. Tell them 
a story as you would tell it to a man of wit, it 
will appear to them as an object seen in the night 
by a flash of lightning; but when you have placed 
it in various lights and in various positions, they 
will come at last to see and feel it as well as 
others. But we need not confine ourselves to the 
vulgar, and to understandings beneath our own. 
Circumstance ever was, and ever will be, the life 
and the essence both of oratory and of poetry. It 
has in some sort the same effect upon every mind 
that it has upon that of the populace ; and I fear 
the quickness and delicate impatience of these 
polished times, in which we live, are but the 
forerunners of the decline of all those beautiful 
arts which depend upon the imagination. 

Whether these apprehensions are well or ill 
grounded, it is sufficient for me that Homer, the 
father of circumstance^ has occasion for the same 
apology which I am making for Lydgate and for 
his predecessors. Not that I pretend to make any 



94 (l];0sfa^0 anu €tititi$mfS 

more comparison between his beauties and theirs, 
than I do between the different languages in which 
they wrote. Ours was indeed barbarous enough 
at that time, the orthography unsettled, the syn- 
tax very deficient and confused, the metre ^ and 

^ I am inclined to think, (whatever Mr. Dryden says in the pre- 
face to his tales) that their metre, at least in serious measures and in 
heroic stanzas, was uniform; not indeed to the eye, but to the ear, 
when rightly pronounced. We undoubtedly destroy a great part of 
the music of their versification by laying the accent of words, where 
nobody then laid it; for example, in the lines cited above, if we 
pronounce entencion, presumpcion, compendious, vertuous, pr5- 
cesse, &c. in the manner in which we do in our own age, it is 
neither verse nor rhyme ; but Lydgate and his contemporaries un- 
doubtedly said, entencion, compendious, processe, &c. as the 
French (from whom those words were borrowed) do at this day, 
intention, compendieux, prods. 

We may every day see instances of this: the better sort of people 
affect to introduce many words from that language, some of which 
retain their original accent for many years, such as fracas, eclatf 
ennui, &c.: others, by coming more into vulgar use, lose it and 
assume the English accent, as ridicule, raillery, 6claircissement, 
advertisement, hautgout, &c. Another peculiarity in the old pro- 
nunciation was that of liquefying two syllables into one, especially 
where there was a liquid consonant in either of them, as, 

" Which among all that ever were redde or sunge'* — 
Or, 

"Of right consid''red of truth and equite." 

Here undoubtedly "ever'"'' in the first line was pronounced as one 
syllable, and "consid''red,'''' in the second line, as two syllables. We 
cannot wonder at this, because we do it still; *' memory, heavenly, 
ct'cry," &c. naturally of three syllables, are, when spoken, of two 
only; ''given, driven,'''' &c. which should be of two, are reduced 
only to one syllable. It is true, that we are uniform in this, and pro- 
nounce such words always alike in prose and verse, and we have 
thrown out the vowel (to the great detriment of our language) in the 



Uemarksf on poems? of 31ot)n Ili^Ugate 95 

the number of syllables left to the ear alone ; and 
yet, with all its rudeness, our tongue had then 
acquired an energy and a plenty by the adoption 
of a variety of words borrowed from the French, 
the Provencal, and the Italian, about the middle 
of the fourteenth century, which at this day our 
best writers seem to miss and to regret ; for many 
of them have gradually dropped into disuse, and 
are only now to be found in the remotest coun- 
ties of England. 

end of all our participles-past, as " awaken 'd, bless'd, damagM, trou- 
brd," &c. by which they either lose a syllable quite, or (what is 
worse) that syllable is pronounced, and yet consists of nothing but 
consonants. The ancients, I imagine, did the same, but not uni- 
formly, either opening or contracting such words to suit the neces- 
sities of tkeir measure. They also at pleasure united two syllables, 
where one ended, and the other begun with a vowel; as, 
" In perfit living, which passith poesie" — 

"Nor with Ovide in poetry most entere — " 
Poesie and poetry were dissyllables: and this they did even where 
the syllables were in two different words, as 

**Shall follow a spring-floode of gracious plentie." — 
The syllables I have marked were melted into one, as well in 
"follow a," as in "gracious." They carried it still further, and 
cut off a syllable where the accent did not fall upon it, even before 
a consonant, as, 

"Caiise of my sbrrmve, roote of my heavinesse;" 
here "sorrow" lost its last syllable entirely. These liberties may be 
justified by our use of the particle "?Ae" in verse, which we some- 
times sink, and sometimes pronounce distinctly before a vowel ; and 
not many years ago it was frequently cut off even before a con- 
sonant. 



96 C^^a^flf anu €tititism& 

Another thing, which perhaps contributed in 
a degree to the making our ancient poets so vol- 
uminous, was the great facility of rhyming, which 
is now grown so difficult ; words of two or three 
syllables, being then newly taken from foreign 
languages, did still retain their original accent, 
and that accent (as they were mostly derived from 
the French) fell, according to the genius of that 
tongue, upon the last syllable ; ^ which, if it had 
still continued among us, had been a great ad- 
vantage to our poetry. Among the Scotch this 
still continues in many words ; for they ^ say, 
envy, practise, pensive, positive, &c. : but we, 
in process of time, have accustomed ourselves 
to throw back all our accents upon the antepe- 
nultima, in words of three or more syllables, and 
of our dissyllables comparatively but a few are 
left, as despair, disdain, repent, pretend, &c. where 
the stress is not laid on the penultima. By this 
mean we are almost reduced to find our rhymes 
among the monosyllables, in which our tongue 



* Except in words which end with an e mute, which being always 
pronounced in verse by the French, and making a distinct syllable, 
the accent is laid upon the penultima: in such words our ancestors 
either pronounced the finishing e, or dropped it entirely, as the 
French themselves do in common conversation. This, I conceive, 
was one of our poetical licenses. 

^ In Waller's time only we said commerce, triumph, &c. with 
the accent on the last syllable. 



Hemarkfi? on poems? of Jlotin i.^tipte 97 

too much abounds, a defect which will for ever 
hinder it from adapting itself well to music, 
and must be consequently no small impediment 
to the sweetness and harmony of versification. 
I have now before me Pope's ethic epistles, the 
first folio edition, which I open at random, and 
find in two opposite pages (beginning with 

Who but must laugh, the master when he sees, &c. 

in the Epistle on Taste to Lord Burlington) in the 
compass of forty lines only seven words at the 
end of a verse which are not monosyllables : there 
is indeed one which is properly a dissyllable, 
heaven^ but cruel constraint has obliged our poets 
to make it but one syllable (as indeed it is in 
common pronunciation), otherwise it would not 
have been any single rhyme at all. Thus our too 
numerous monosyllables are increased, and con- 
sonants crowded together till they can hardly be 
pronounced at all; a misfortune which has al- 
ready happened to the second person singular per- 
fect in most of our verbs, such as, thou stood'st, 
gav*st, hurt'st, laugh'dst, uprear'dst, built'st, &c. 
which can scarcely be borne in prose. Now as 
to trissyllables, as their accent is very rarely on 
the last, they cannot properly be any rhymes at 
all : yet nevertheless I highly commend those who 
have judiciously and sparingly introduced them 



98 C^^a^^ ant) €titmsim^ 

as such. Dryden, in whose admirable ear the 
music of our old versification still sounded^ has fre- 
quently done it in his Tales, and elsewhere. Pope 
does it now and then, but seems to avoid it as 
licentious. If any future Englishman can attain 
that height of glory, to which these two pdets have 
risen, let him be less scrupulous, upon reflecting, 
that to poetry languages owe their first forma- 
tion, elegance, and purity ; that our own, which 
was naturally rough and barren, borrowed from 
thence its copiousness and its ornaments; and 
that the authority of such a poet may perhaps 
redress many of the abuses which time and ill 
custom have introduced, the poverty of rhyme, 
the crowd of monosyllables, the collision of 
harsh consonants, and the want of picturesque 
expression, which, I will be bold to say, our lan- 
guage labours under now more than it did a hun- 
dred years ago. 

To return to Lydgate. I do not pretend to set 
him on a level with his master, Chaucer, but he 
certainly comes the nearest to him of any con- 
temporary writer, that I am acquainted with. His 
choice of expression, and the smoothness of his 
verse, far surpass both Gower and Occleve. He 
wanted not art in raising the more tender emo- 
tions of the mind, of which I might give several 
examples. The first is, of that sympathy which 



Ennark0 on poemsf of J[o\)n IL^Hgate 99 

we feel for humble piety and contrition : Con- 
stantine is introduced making his confession and 
returning thanks to heaven in sight of the Ro- 
man people, after he had been cured of a griev- 
ous malady by the water of baptism ; 

His crown he tooke, and kneeling thus he said. 
With wepinge eyen and voice lamentable, 
And for sobbynge so as he might abbraydej 
**0 blessed Jesu, O Lord most merciable, 
Lette my teares to thee be acceptable, 
Receive my prayer, my request not refuse. 
As man most sinful, I may not me excuse. 

"I occupied the state of the emperoiir. 
Of thy martyrs I shedde the holye blood, 
Spared no saintes in my cruel errour, 
Them to pursue most furious and woode; 
Now blessed Jesu, gracious and most good, 
Peysed ^ and considred mine importable ^ offence, 
I am not worthy to come in thy presence, 

"Nor for to enter into this holy place. 
Upon this ground unable for to dwell, 
To open my eyen, or lift up my face; 
Butte of thy mercy (so thou mee not repell) 
As man most sinfull I come unto the welle. 
Thy welle of grace and merciful pitye. 
For to be washed of mine iniquity." 

This example in open hath he shewed. 
His state imperial of mekeness laid aside. 
His purple garment with teares all bedewed, 
Sworde, nor scepterre, ne horse whereon to ride, 
There was none seen, nor banners splayed wide. 
Of martial triumphs was no token founde, 
But, crying mercy, the emperour lay plat on the ground. 

The people's gladness was meddled with wepinge, 
And theire wepynge was meddled with gladnfess, 

^ Pese, weighed. ^ Insupportable. 



I 



100 c^sfsfa^sf anti €tititisim^ 

To see an emperour and so noble a king, 
Of his free choyce to shew soe great meken^ss; 
Thus intermeddled was joy and heavyness, 
Heavyness far passed olde vengeaunce, 
With newe rejoising of ghostly repentaunce. 

Book viii. fol. 184. 

Of the same kind is the prayer of Theodosius 
before he engaged in battle with Arbogastes (in 
the same book, fol. 188). A second instance of 
the pathetic, but in a different way, I shall tran- 
scribe from the first book, fol. 39, to shew how 
far he could enter into the distresses of love and 
of maternal fondness. Canace, condemned to 
death by JEolus her father, sends to her guilty 
brother Macareus the last testimony of her un- 
happy passion : 

Out of her swoone when she did abbraide, 
Knowing no mean but death in her distr^sse, 
To her brother full piteouslie she said, 
"Cause of my sorrowe, roote of my heavinesse, 
That whilom were the sourse of my gladnesse 
When both our joyes by wille were so disposed. 
Under one key our hearts to be inclosed. 



This is mine end, I may it not astarte; 
O brother mine, there is no more to saye; 
Lowly beseeching with all mine whole hearte 
For to remember specially, I praye, 
If it befall my littel sonne to dye. 
That thou mayst after some mynd on us have, 
Suffer us both be buried in one grave. 

I hold him streitly twene my armes twein, 
Thou and nature laide on me this charge; 



Uemarb^ on ponus? of idotjn il^Ugate loi 

He, guiltlesse, muste with me suffer paine: 
And sith thou art at freedome and at large 
Let kindness oure love not so discharge, 
But have a minde, wherever that thou be, 
Once on a day upon my child and me. 

On thee and me dependeth the trespace, 
Touching our guilt and our great offence, 
But, welaway! most angelik of face 
Our childe, young in his pure innocence. 
Shall agayn right suffer death's violence, 
Tender of limbes, God wote, full guilteless. 
The goodly faire, that lieth here speechless. 
.A mouth he has, but wordis hath he none; 
Cannot complaine, alas! for none outrage, 
Nor grutcheth not, but lies here all alone. 
Still as a lambe, most meke of his visage. 
What heart of stele could do to him damage, 
Or suffer him dye, beholding the manere 
And looke benigne of his tweine eyen clere?" 

B. i. fol. 39. 

I Stop here, not because there are not great 
beauties in the remainder of this epistle, but be- 
cause Lydgate, in the three last stanzas of this 
extract, has touched the very heart-springs of 
compassion with so masterly a hand, as to merit 
a place among the greatest poets. The learned 
reader will see the resemblance they bear to one 
of the most admirable remnants of all antiquity, 
I mean the fragment of Simonides (unhappily it 
is but a fragment) preserved to us by Dionysius 
Halicarnassensis ; and yet, I believe, that no one 
will imagine that Lydgate had ever seen, or heard 
of it. As to Ovid, from whom Boccaccio might 



I02 C^fiffifa^sf and Criticisfms; 

borrow many of his ideas in this story, it will be 
easily seen, upon comparison, how far our poet 
has surpassed him. He finishes his narration in 
this manner : 

Writing her letter, awhapped all in drede, 
In her right hand her penne ygan to quake, 
And a sharp sword to make her hearte blede, 
In her left hand her father hath her take, 
And most her sorrowe was for her childes sake. 
Upon whose face in her barme sleepynge 
Full many a tere she wept in complaynyng. 

After all this, so as she stoode and quoke, 
Her child beholding mid of her peines smart, 
Without abode the sharpe sword she tooke. 
And rove herselfe even to the hearte; 
Her child fell down, which mighte not astert, 
Having no help to succour him, nor save. 
But in her blood the selfe began to bathe. 

B. i. fol. 39. 

A third kind of pathos arises from magnanim- 
ity in distress, which, managed by a skilful hand, 
will touch us even where we detest the char- 
acter which suffers. Of this too I shall produce 
an example in Olympias, the mother of Alex- 
ander, betrayed into the hands of the perfidious 
Cassander. It begins : 

His faith was laide that time for hostage — 

And for five stanzas following. 

And his reflections, after this, upon the forti- 
tude of so cruel and imperious a woman shew 



Uemarksf on ^otnai of 3|ol)n il^tigate 103 

something of penetration and insight into the 
human heart : 

But froward rancour and wode melanchoUe 
Gave her a sprite of feigned patience, 
A false pretence of high magnificence; 
A scaunce she had been in virtue stronge, 
For truthe to have enduredde every wrong. 

Contrarious force made her dispiteous 
Strong in her errour to endure her payne, 
Of obstinate heart she was, fell and yrous, 
In death's constreinte list not to complaine, 
Counterfeit suffrance made her for to feigne, 
Nothing of virtue plainly to termine. 
Nor of no manners that be feminine. 

B. iv. fol. 114. 

Of the same kind are his description of Mithri- 
dates surrounded by the troops of Pompey in 
Armenia, (B. vi. fol. 153) the Speech of Regu- 
lus to the Senate, (B. v.) and that of Lucrece 
to her husband and father determining on death, 
(B. ii. fol. 48) and the same story repeated, for 
he has told it twice in a different manner (B. 
iii. fol. 74). 

It is observable that in images of horrour, and 
in a certain terrible greatness, our author comes 
far behind Chaucer. Whether they were not 
suited to the genius or to the temper of Lydgate, 
I do not determine ; but it is certain that, though 
they naturally seemed to present themselves, he 
has almost generally chosen to avoid them : yet is 



I04 ([l;00a^0 anD Criticisms 

there frequently a stiller kind of majesty both in 
his thought and expression, which makes one of 
his principal beauties. The following instance 
of it (I think) approaches even to sublimity : 

God hath a thousand handes to chastyse, 

A thousand dartes of punicion, 

A thousand bowes made in uncouthe wyse, 

A thousand arblastes bent in his doungeon,^ 

Ordeind each one for castigacion; 

But where he fyndes mekeness and repentaunce, 

Mercy is mystresse of his ordinaunce. 

B. i. f. 6. 

There is also a particular elegance in his grave 
and sententious reflections, which makes a dis- 
tinguishing part of his character : of this I shall 
give some examples out of a multitude. B. i. 
f. 6, &c. on pride ; on literature, in the prologue 
to the fourth book; and on contented poverty 
(B. i. f. 34); and on the vices of persons meanly 
born, when raised to power (B. iv. f. 118); 
but examples of this kind are too many and too 
prolix for me to transcribe. I shall refer, how- 
ever, also to those verses which recommend 
gentleness and mercy to women (f. 115); on the 
mischiefs of flattery (f. 44) ; on ingratitude (f. 
139); on patience (f. 211); on avarice (f. 93); 
on the duties of a king (f. 190) ; and the allegor- 

^ Doungeon is a castle or palace: so in B. viii. c. 24, he calls 
heaven "the riche sterry bright doungeon." 



\ 

\ 



Kemaitsf on ^otm& of Jotin il^Ugate 105 

ical, combat between fortune and glad poverty 

(f. 69). 

Lydgate seems to have been by nature of a 
more serious and melancholy turn of mind than 
Chaucer; yet one here and there meets vi^ith a 
stroke of satire and irony which does not want 
humour, and it usually falls (as was the custom 
of those times) either upon the women or on the 
clergy. As the religious were the principal schol- 
ars of these ages, they probably gave the tone in 
writing or in wit to the rest of the nation. The 
celibacy imposed on them by the church had 
soured their temper, and naturally disposed them 
(as is observed of old bachelors in our days) to 
make the weaknesses of the other sex their theme ; 
and though every one had a profound respect for 
his own particular order, yet the feuds and bick- 
erings between one order and another were per- 
petual and irreconcileable. These possibly were 
the causes which directed the satire of our old 
writers principally to those two objects. On the 
first may be produced the passage (B. i. f. 26), 

But Bochas here, &c. 

for three stanzas. 

In the dispute between Brunichilde, Queen of 
France, and Boccaccio, he is more direct and 
explicit : 



io6 (l];00ai?sf ant) Critici^msf 

Soothely, quoth he, this is the condicion, 
Of you women, almoste every where, &c. 

(B. ix. f. 198), and so for three stanzas: and 
surely his reflections on Orpheus, when he had 
lost Euridice, are neither deficient in spirit nor in 
expression (B. i. f. 32) : 

If some husbands had stonden in the case 

To have lost their wives for a looke sodeine, &c. 

and for five stanzas. 

This kind of satire will, I know, appear to 
modern men to taste a little stale and unfashion- 
able ; but our reflections should go deeper, and 
lead us to consider the fading and transitory 
nature of wit in general. I have above attempted 
to shew the source whence the two prevailing 
subjects of our ancestors' severity were derived : 
let us also observe their diff'erent success and 
duration from those times to our own. 

The first, I mean the frailties of women, are 
now become the favourite theme of conversation 
among country-gentlemen, fellows of colleges, 
and the lower clergy. Upon these (if we attend 
to it) commonly turns the archness and pleas- 
antry of farmers, peasants, and the meanest of 
the people ; for to them it is that modes of wit, 
as well as of dress and manners, gradually de- 
scend : and there (as they came to them by a very 
slow and insensible progress) from a peculiar sul- 



Mema)t:fe0 on poem0 of 3|ol)n ll^upce 107 

lenness and aversion in their nature to every thing 
which seems new ; so, when they are once 
established, do they continue and obstinately ad- 
here for ages ; for, as it has been said of justice, 
it is in the country that 

Fashion lingers, ere she leaves the land. 

Go but into some county at a distance from the 
capital ; observe their table, their furniture, their 
habits ; and be sure that there was a time (which 
a person of curiosity in the original and antiquity 
of national customs may frequently discover) 
when those meats with which they serve you, 
and those moveables which they use, were deli- 
cacies and conveniences of life, only seen in the 
houses of people of high distinction ; and when 
those forms of dress, at which you now laugh, 
were newly imported or invented by some " ruf- 
fling gallant," or by some lofty dame of honour 
in the court of Elizabeth, perhaps, or, at latest, 
of Charles the Second. In the same manner, in 
their expressions of civility and compliment, and 
in their turn of reflection, their stories and their 
jokes all savour of a former age, and once be- 
longed to the most polished and gayest people 
of our nation. Sometimes they were originally 
ridiculous and absurd, sometimes far more proper 
and more sensible than what has been since in- 



io8 Csf^a^^ anJ) Crittcisfntflf 

troduced in their room ; and here it is only the 
misapplication of them, and somewhat of awk- 
wardness which they may have contracted in the 
country, that can with justice make them objects 
of ridicule. 

That general satire upon the female sex, of 
which I am speaking, is now banished from good 
company ; for which there may be several reasons 
given. Celibacy is no more enjoined to our 
clergy, and as knowledge and writing diffused 
themselves among the body of the people, the 
clergy grew no longer to be the leaders of their 
taste and humour ; and lastly, we have (as in 
most things) adopted in some measure that ex- 
treme politeness and respect which the French 
pretend to shew to their women. The case is 
nearly the same in that nation as in this, in one 
point ; the clergy have less influence there than 
in any other catholic country, and, as erudition 
has spread among the laity, they are no more the 
models of wit and good sense to their country- 
men. Their old Fabliaux and Romans were just 
as severe upon the women, and in the same way, 
as ours ; and just so that humour has impercep- 
tibly worn out with them. Yet we need but look 
into the tales of Fontaine in that tongue, bor- 
rowed from those old stories which I have men- 
tioned, and from Boccaccio, Machiavel, Ariosto, 



Kemarkfif on ^otm& of 31ol)n ll^tipte 109 

and others, where all the naivete and sly simplic- 
ity of the ancient writers are preserved and height- 
ened with the correctness, elegance, and graces 
of the moderns; and (though far the greater part 
of their humour runs upon this very subject) we 
shall soon be convinced that it is a topic not to 
be exhausted, and full as susceptible of wit and 
of true ridicule as it was four hundred years ago. 
Instances of this in our own language may be 
seen tn most of Dryden's tales, in Pope's Jan- 
uary and May, the Wife of Bath's Prologue, and 
in other compositions. 

But raillery on the priesthood has continued 
through every age, and remains almost as fash- 
ionable as ever. It was in its full force about the 
time of the Reformation, and a little before, upon 
the revival of learning and the invention of print- 
ing: afterwards it turned upon our established 
church, and the variety of sects produced the 
same effect that the variety of the religious orders 
had done formerly ; not to mention the struggles 
for power between the Church and the Com- 
monwealth in Charles the First's and in Charles 
the Second's reign, and at the Revolution, and 
in the last years of Queen Anne, and in the 
beginning of George the First, which have pro- 
duced a lasting bitterness and rancour, which 
keeps this kind of satire alive and in countenance 



1 1 o (lBfi?0a^£f anu Cricictentflf 

even to this day. Addison, who formed and 
influenced the national taste in a thousand in- 
stances, could not with all his efforts do it in 
this case j yet perhaps we may, in no long time, 
see the end of this fashion, for, if I am not 
greatly mistaken, the spirit is already subsiding. 
The examples of this second kind of wit are 
much more frequent in Chaucer than in Lyd- 
gate : there are however some, as in B. ix. fol. 
202, of the Fall of Princes : 

The poorh staff, and potent of doctrine, 
When it was chaunged, and liste not abide 
In wilful povertie; but gan anon decline 
On statelie palfreys and highe horse to ride; 
Sharpe haires then were also laide asyde, 
Turned to copes of purple and sanguine, 
Gownes of scarlet furred with ermine. 

Slendere fare of wine and water clere, 
With abstinence of bread ymade of wheat, 
Chaunged the days to many fat dinere 
With confit drink and Ippocrase swete; 
All sobernesse did his boundes lete: 
Scarsness of foode lefte his olde estate, 
With new excess gan wexfe delicate. 

And in B. ix. f. 217 : 

Priestes, prelates, and well-fed fat parsons 
Richly avaunced, and clerkes of degree 
Reken up religions with all their brode crowns. 
And patriarches, that have great sovereigntie, 
Bishops, abbots, confirmed in their see, 
Secular canons, with many a great prebfend. 
Behold of fortune the mutability, 
How sodeinly she made them to descend. 



Mematksf on poems: of ^lol^n !l^J)pce 1 1 1 

And in the Daunce of Machabree,'^ where Death 
is introduced as leading a measure, and compel- 
ling all sorts and degrees of mankind to join the 
dance, men of the church are represented as 
more loth and unwilling to die, than any other 
profession whatever. 

The Pope, indeed, out of respect to his dignity, 
and the Chartreux and the Hermit, (who were 
entirely abstracted from worldly affairs, and ex- 
posed therefore to no one's malignity,) shew less 
repugnance to death, and the latter even wel- 
comes him with great cheerfulness. 

Lydgate, however, makes his apology to the 
ladies very handsomely for the hard things he 
has said of them : 

The riche rubye, nor the sapphire Ynde, 
Be not appaired of their freshe beautee, 
Thoughe amonge stones men counterfeites finde; 
And semblaby, though some women be 
Not well governed after their degre, 
It not defaceth, nor doth violence 
To them, that never did in their life offence. 

The white lilie, nor the wholesom rose, 
Nor violettes spredde on bankis thick 
Their swetenesse, which outward they unclose, 
Is not appaired with no wedes wicke, &c. 

B. i. f. 37- 

^ It is a translation, or rather a paraphrase from the French 
of Doctor Machabree, and the subject of it was expressed on the 
wall of St. Innocent's at Paris in painting, where Lydgate had 
seen it. It is printed by Tothill at the end of Boccace in 1554, fol. 



1 1 2 c^fifsfa^flf anJ) €tititi^m^ 

He defends the honour of his country with 
a laudable spirit against Boccaccio, who, though 
speaking of the victory when John, King of 
France, was made prisoner, calls the English 
" inertissimos et nullius valoris homines " : 

Though the said Boccace flowred in poetrie, 
His partialle writinge gave no mortal wounde, 
Caughte a quarrel in his melancholia, 
Which to his shame did afterwardes redounde, &c. 

Held them but smale of reputation, 
In his report; men may his writings see: 
His fantasie, nor his opinion 
Stode in that case of no authoritie: 
Their kinge was took; their knightes all did flee: 
Where was Bochas to help them at such nede ? 
Save with his pen, he made no man to blede. 

B. ix. f. 216. 

The epilogue addressed to the Duke of Glou- 
cester, and the three envoyes which follow it, 
have much poetical expression in them, which 
was Lydgate's^ peculiar merit. However his name 

^ Lydgate composed a great number of ballads, one of which 
I shall here transcribe, as, I imagine, it never was printed. 

[like a midsomer rose.] 

[I.] 

Let no man boaste of cunnyng, ne virtil, 
Of tresour, richesse, nor of sapience, 
Of worldly support, alle cummith of Jesti, 
Counsel, comfort, discretion, and prudence, 
Promotion, foresighte, and providence; 
Like as the lord of grace lyst to dispose, 
Som man hath wisdom, som hath eloquence. 
All stand on chaunge, like a midsomer rose. 



larmarfesf on poem0 of 31ol^n fL^ugate 113 

be now almost lost in oblivion, yet did his repu- 
tation continue flourishing above a hundred years 

Holsome in smellyng be the sot& flowers. 
Full delectable outwarde to the syght; 
The thorn is sharpe, endued with freshe colours; 
All is not gold, that outwarde sheweth bryght. 
A stockfysch bone in darkeness giveth light, 
Twene faire and fowle, as God list to dispose, 
A difference atwyx the day and nyght. 
• All stand on chaunge, like a midsomer rose. 

[3.] 
Flowerrfes open upon every greene 
Whanne the larke, mesangere of day, 
Saleweth the' upryst of the sunnis shene 
Most amorosely in April and in May; 
And Aurora, agayne the morrow gray, 
Causith the daysy his crowne to unclose. 
Worldly gladnesse is medlyd with affray: 
AH stand on chaunge, like a midsomer rose. 

[4.] 
Atwene the cukkow and the nightyngale 
There is amayde a straunge difference. 
On fresche branchys singyth the wood-wayle;* 
Jays in musicke have small experience; 
Chattering pyes, whan they cum in presence, 
Most malapert theire verdyte to propose. 
All thyng hath favour brevely in sentence 
Of soft or sharp, like a midsomer rose. 

[5.] 
The royal lion let call a pari amen t, 
All beastis soone aboute him Environ; 

^ Wood-pigeon. Some say it is the witwall or golden thrush. 



1 14 Csfsfa^^ anU €xititi&m^ 

after his death, and particularly we may see the 
esteem in which this work of " The Fall of 

The wolf of malice being ther present 
Upon the lambe complayns again reson 
Saide, he made his water unholsumme, 
Hys tendyr stomak to' hinder and undispose; 
Ravenors ravyne, the' innocent is bore downe. 
All stand on chaunge, like a midsomer rose. 

[6.] 

All worldly thynge braidyth upon time; 
The sunne chaungith, so does the pale moone; 
The aureat noumbre in kalenders for prime: 
Fortune is double, doth favour for no boone; 
And who that hath w^ith that qwene ^ to done, 
Contrariosely she will his chaunge dispose; 
Who sitteth hyghest, most like to fall sone. 
All stands on chaunge, like a midsomer rose. 

[7.] 
The golden carr of Phebus in the aire 
Causith mists blake that they dare not appere, 
At whose upryst mountains be made so faire 
As they were new gylt with his bemys clere, 
The nyght doth follow, appallith all his chere, 
When westerne waves his stremys over close; 
Recken all beawty, all fresheness, that is here: 
All stand on chaunge, like a midsomer rose. 

[8.] 
Constreynt of cold makith the fowlis dare ^ 
With wynter frost, that they dare not appere; 
All cladde in russett soil of greene is bare, 
Tellus and Juno duUyd of their chere 

» Harlot. 



' Lie hid. From the A. Saxon dearn dearnan, to hide. 



a^mark0 on ^Boem0 of ^lotjn ll^Ugate 115 

Princes " was in, for eight poets in Queen Eliza- 
beth's reign, and at the head of them Thomas 

By revolution tumyng of the yere; 

As graye March his stoundys ^ doth disclose, 

Now rayne, now storme, now Phebus bright and clere. 

All stand on chaunge, like a midsomer rose. 

[9-] 
Where is now David, the most worthy king, 
Of Juda and Israel famous and notable ? 
And where is Solonlon, soveraine of cunning, 
' Richest of buylding, of tresour incomparable ? 
Face of Absalom most faire most amiable ? 
Recken up echone, of truth make no close; 
Recken up Jonathas of friendship immutable. 
All stand on chaunge, like a midsomer rose. 

[10.] 
Where Julius, proudest in his empire, 
With his triumphis most imperial ? 
And where is Porus, that was lord and sire 
Of Inde in hys hygh estate royal ? 
And where is Alisaund, that conquer'd all ? 
Fayld laisour his testament to dispose, 
Nabucodnosor, or Sardanapal? 
All stand on chaunge like a midsomer rose. 

[II.] 

And where is Tullius wyth hys sugyrd tungue, 
Or Chrisostomus with his golden mouthe ? 
The aureat ditties that were redde or sunge 
Of Homerus in Grece both north and south ? 
The tragedies divers and unkouth 
Of moral Seneck the misteries to unclose ? 
By many' examplys this tnatt^ is full kowth: 
All stand on chaunge as a midsomer rose. 

^ Times, weathers. Saxon. 



1 1 6 Csfsfa^^ ant) Criticisfm^ 

Sackville, afterwards Lord Buckhurst, joined 
their forces to write a supplement to it, called 

[I2.] 

Where ben of Fraunce all the douseperes ^ 
Which over alle had the governance ? 
(Wowis of the pecok with her prowde chferes!) 
The worthy "^ nine with alle their beaunce 
The Trojan knightes, greatest of allyaunce? 
The flece of gold conquered in Colchose ? 
Rome and Carthage most soverein of puissaunce ? 
All stand on chaunge, like a midsomer rose. 

Putt in a summe all martial policye, 
Compleat in Afrik, and bowndis of Cartage, 
The Theban legion, example' of chivalry, 
At Jordain's river was expert their corage, 
There thousand knightis born of hygh parage, 
There martyrd, redde in metre and in prose; 
The golden crownes made in the heavenly stage, 
Fresher than lily', or the midsomer rose. 

[14.] 
The remembraunce of every famose knyght, 
Grownd considerd, is buylt on ryghtwysnesse. 
Rose out eche quarrell that' is not buylt on right. 
Withouten trouthe what vaylith high noblesse? 
Lawrer of martyrs foundyd on holynesse. 
White was made rede their triumphs to disclose; 
The whit^ lilie was theire chast cleannfesse, 
Theire bloody sufiFeraunce no midsomer rose: 

^ Douze Pairs; the twelve peers of Charlemagne. 

' The nine Worthies : they are Joshua, David, Judas Machabeus, 
Hector, Alexander, Julius Caesar, Arthur, Charlemagne, and 
Godfrey of Boulogne. 



EnnarfefiJ on poemsf of Bloftn tl^tigate 1 1 7 

" The Mirror of Magistrates." (See W. Bald- 
wyn's preface, fol. 109 of the edition in 1587, 
in 4to.) 

It was the rosfe of the bloodye field, 
The rose of Jericho, that grew in Bethlemm, 
The fine posies, purtreyed on the sheelde 
Splayd in the banner at Jerusalem. 
The sunne was clypsd and darke in every reame,* 
When Jesu Crist five wellis list unclose 
Toward Paradyse, and callid the rede streme, 
Of whose five woundes print in your heart a rose. 

From a MS. in the Public Library in the University of Cam- 
bridge [Hh. iv. 12]. 

* Realm. 



SAMUEL DANIEL 

His genius and style rarely if ever rise to that 
elevation, that the stronger and more terrific emo- 
tions of mind require. His figures and allusions 
are neither many nor bold ; he had little inven- 
tion in the design, or art in the arrangement of 
his ideas. His ear was good, his versification like 
his style flowing and unaffected. As his youth 
was passed in an age of better taste, fertile in 
genius and in poetry, he caught from the works 
he then admired, and the friendships he then 
form'd, a warm zeal and respect for his own art, 
and improved those abilities nature had given him 
to a certain pitch beyond which he never went, 
for his riper days were passed in an insipid court, 
nay worse, a court of bad taste, that affected out 
of policy a contempt for the favourite studies of 
the preceding reign, and that with a pedantic ad- 
miration and reverence for the ancients preferred 
to the brightest productions of genius such works 
as servilely and inelegantly copied their thoughts, 
or imitated more happily their puerilities. This 
may be sufficient to show why his natural talents, 
and the expectations Spenser had raised of him 
were blasted after the death of Elizabeth 5 he him- 



g)amuel SDaniel 119 

self was sensible of it, and feelingly regrets the 
happier days he had once seen. Musoph. p. 88. 
' But whereas he came planted in the spring,' &c., 
and Epist. to the prince before his Philotas.^ Tho' 
I the remnant,' &c., and this was probably the 
reason why he employed his latter days in, writing 
history, indeed, his wars of York and Lancaster, 
(tho' wrote before Elizabeth's death) of which he 
never finished more than eight books, mark very 
strongly his transition from verse to prose. The 
disposition of events is in thesame dull order that 
he found in the Chronicle, no attempt at poetical 
contrivance or design, except the raising Henry 
the Fifth's ghost (1. 5), which is merely an imi- 
tation of Lydgate (or rather Boccace),Lyndesay's 
Tragedie of Card. Betone, Drayton's Legends of 
Robert D. of Norm., Piers Gaveston,&c.,and the 
Mirror of Magistrates, already copied by him in 
the Complaint of Rosamond, and a long Fable ill 
introduced (1. 6, st. 27) to account for the inven- 
tion of gunpowder, it can hardly be known for 
verse but by the measure and the rhyme, and is 
doubtless the meanest among his performances ; 
indeed, in all he has left us there are two defects 
(perhaps of his nature) very conspicuous, the 
want of imagination and the weakness of expres- 
sion (see Drayton's Elegy to Mr. Reynolds), 
(faults nearly allied to those beauties for which I 



I20 (l^j50a^0 anu Criticiflfmsf 

have celebrated him;) yet had his application been 
directed by some friend (like Spenser) of superior 
talents to those subjects that best suit a gentle 
and sensible nature, that move and w^arm without 
inflaming or transporting the heart, he might have 
doubtless merited the character of an amiable and 
even affecting v^riter. He had the more need of 
such assistance, because besides his usual coldness 
and redundancy of expression, he shows a remark- 
able want of judgment, I might instance his giv- 
ing in to the conceits of Marino and the bad 
Italian writers (though it is but seldom he does 
this and in a manner that shows it is not natural 
to him), his choice of Seneca for a model, and 
his introduction of rhyming stanzas in tragedy, — 
but the fashion of that age in which he lived may 
serve to excuse the former, and the examples of 
Lord Buckhurst, Lord Brooke, and others the 
latter. Such writers as Seneca and Marino not 
only dazzle men of little imagination, who ad- 
mire them as women do heroes, because they pos- 
sess what themselves principally want, but those 
too of brighter parts who find in them something 
congenial to their own fancy, and whose mind is 
not comprehensive or attention cool enough to 
judge of the whole or discern the superior beau- 
ties of propriety in place, of time, and of char- 
acter. It is chiefly from the Musophilus that I 



Samuel SDaniel 121 

judge of his talents for Elegy, which requires no 
other order or invention than those of pure, sim- 
ple nature, what is (or what ought to appear) the 
result of a feeling mind strongly possess'd by its 
subject, and surely he that is so in poetry has done 
more than half his work, but it is not every im- 
agination that can throw itself into all the situa- 
tions of a fictitious subject. 



SELECTIONS FROM THE LETTERS 
SOME FRENCH PLAYS 

[To Richard West, from Paris, April 12, 1739] 

... At night we went to the Pandore ; a 
spectacle literally, for it is nothing but a beauti- 
ful piece of machinery of three scenes. The 
first represents the chaos, and by degrees the sep- 
aration of the elements. The second, the temple 
of Jupiter, the giving of the box to Pandora. The 
third, the opening of the box, and all the mis- 
chiefs that ensued. An absurd design, but exe- 
cuted in the highest perfection, and that in one 
of the finest theatres in the world ; it is the 
grande sale des machines in the Palais des Tui- 
leries. Next day dined at Lord Waldegrave's ; 
then to the opera. Imagine to yourself for the 
drama four acts entirely unconnected with each 
other, each founded on some little history, skil- 
fully taken out of an ancient author, e. g. Ovid's 
Metamorphoses, etc., and with great address 
converted into a French piece of gallantry. For 
instance, that which I saw, called the Ballet de 
la Paix, had its first act built upon the story of 
Nireus. Homer having said he was the hand- 



§>ome JFrenc^i |^la^0 123 

somest man of his time, the poet, imagining such 
a one could not want a mistress, has given him 
one. These two come in and sing sentiment in 
lamentable strains, neither air nor recitative ; 
only, to one's great joy, they are every now and 
then interrupted by a dance, or (to one's great 
sorrow) by a chorus that borders the stage from 
one end to the other, and screams, past all power 
of simile to represent. The second act was Baucis 
and "Philemon. Baucis is a beautiful young shep- 
herdess, and Philemon her swain. Jupiter falls 
in love with her, but nothing will prevail upon 
her ; so it is all mighty well, and the chorus sing 
and dance the praises of Constancy. The two 
other acts were about Iphis and lanthe, and the 
judgment of Paris. Imagine, I say, all this trans- 
acted by cracked voices, trilling divisions upon 
two notes and a half, accompanied by an orchestra 
of humstrums, and a whole house more attentive 
than if Farinelli sung, and you will almost have 
formed a just notion of the thing. Our astonish- 
ment at their absurdity you can never conceive ; 
we had enough to do to express it by screaming 
an hour louder than the whole dramatis personae. 
We have also seen twice the Comedie Fran^oise ; 
first, the Mahomet Second^ a tragedy that has had 
a great run of late ; and the thing itself does not 
want its beauties, but the actors are beyond meas- 



124 ^elmionsf from tf^t ILetterfif 

ure delightful. Mademoiselle Gaussin (M. Vol- 
taire's Zara) has with a charming (though little) 
person the most pathetic tone of voice, the finest 
expression in her face, and most proper action 
imaginable. There is also a Dufrene, who did 
the chief character, a handsome man and a pro- 
digious fine actor. The second we saw was the 
Philosophe marie,, and here they performed as well 
in comedy ; there is a Mademoiselle Quinault, 
somewhat in Mrs. Clive's way, and a Monsieur 
Grandval, in the nature of Wilks, who is the 
genteelest thing in the world. There are several 
more would be much admired in England, and 
many (whom we have not seen) much celebrated 
here. . . . 

THEATRICAL NOTES 

\To Thomas Ashtotif from PariSf May, 1739] 

. . . We have seen here your " Gustavus 
Vasa " that had raised the general expectation so 
high, long ago. A worthy piece of prohibited 
Merchandise, in truth ! The Town must have 
been extreme mercifully disposed ; if for the sake 
of ten innocent lines that may peradventure be 
picked out, it had consented to spare the lives of 
the ten thousand wicked ones, that remain. I 
don't know what condition your Stage is in, but 



l^ersfaillesf 125 

the French is in a very good one at present. 
Among the rest they have a Mademoiselle Du- 
menil whose every look and gesture is violent 
Nature, she is Passion itself, incarnate. 

I saw her the other Night do the Phaedra of 
Racine, in a manner which affected me so 
strongly, that as you see, I can't help prattling 
about her even to you, that do not care two 
Pence. . . . 

VERSAILLES 

\To Richard West\ 

Paris, May 22, 1739. 

After the little particulars aforesaid I should 
have proceeded to a journal of our transactions 
for this week past, should have carried you post 
from hence to Versailles, hurried you through 
the gardens to Trianon, back again to Paris, so 
away to Chantilly. But the fatigue is perhaps 
more than you can bear, and moreover I think 
I have reason to stomach your last piece of grav- 
ity. Supposing you were in your soberest mood, 
I am sorry you should think me capable of ever 
being so dissipe, so evapore, as not to be in a 
condition of relishing anything you could say to 
me. And now, if you have a mind to make your 
peace with me, arouse ye from your megrims 



126 ^tltttiona txom tlit Utttttsi | 

and your melancholies, and (for exercise is good 
for you) throw away your night-cap, call for 
your jack-boots, and set out with me, last Sat- 
urday evening, for Versailles — and so at eight 
o'clock, passing through a road speckled with 
vines, and villas, and hares, and partridges, we 
arrive at the great avenue, flanked on either hand 
with a double row of trees about half a mile long, 
and with the palace itself to terminate the view; 
facing which, on each side of you is placed a 
semi-circle of very handsome buildings, which 
form the stables. These we will not enter into, 
because you know we are no jockeys. Well ! 
and is this the great front of Versailles ? What 
a huge heap of littleness ! It is composed, as it 
were, of three courts, all open to the eye at once, 
and gradually diminishing till you come to the 
royal apartments, which on this side present but 
half a dozen windows and a balcony. This last 
IS all that can be called a front, for the rest is 
only great wings. The hue of all this mass is 
black, dirty red, and yellow ; the first proceed- 
ing from stone changed by age ; the second, from 
a mixture of brick ; and the last, from a profu- 
sion of tarnished gilding. You cannot see a more 
disagreeable tout-ensemble ; and, to finish the 
matter, it is all stuck over in many places with 
small busts of a tawny hue between every two 



wttmillt& 127 

windows. We pass through this to go into the 
garden, and here the case is indeed altered; no- 
thing can be vaster and more magnificent than 
the back front ; before it a very spacious terrace 
spreads itself, adorned with two large basons ; 
these are bordered and lined (as most of the 
others) with white marble, with handsome statues 
of bronze reclined on their edges. From hence 
you descend a huge flight of steps into a semi- 
circle formed by woods, that are cut all around 
into niches, which are filled with beautiful copies 
of all the famous antique statues in white mar- 
ble. Just in the midst is the bason of Latona ; 
she and her children are standing on the top of 
a rock in the middle, on the sides of which are 
the peasants, some half, some totally changed 
into frogs, all which throw out water at her in 
great plenty. From this place runs on the great 
alley, which brings you into a complete round, 
where is the bason of Apollo, the biggest in the 
gardens. He is rising in his car out of the water, 
surrounded by nymphs and tritons, all in bronze, 
and finely executed, and these, as they play, 
raise a perfect storm about him ; beyond this is 
the great canal, a prodigious long piece of water, 
that terminates the whole : all this you have at 
one coup d'oeil in entering the garden, which is 
truly great. I cannot say as much of the general 



1 28 g)elettionsf from tl^e %ttttv& 

taste of the place : every thing you behold sa- 
vours too much of art ; all is forced, all is con- 
strained about you ; statues and vases sowed 
everywhere without distinction ; sugar loaves 
and minced pies of yew; scrawl work of box, 
and little squirting jets-d'eau, besides . a great 
sameness in the walks, cannot help striking one 
at first sight, not to mention the silliest of laby- 
rinths, and all /Esop's fables in water; since 
these were designed in usum Delphini only. 
Here then we walk by moonlight, and hear the 
ladies and the nightingales sing. Next morning, 
being Whitsunday, make ready to go to the In- 
stallation of nine Knights du Saint Esprit, Cambis 
is one : high mass celebrated with music, great 
crowd, much incense. King, Queen, Dauphin, 
Mesdames, Cardinals, and Court: Knights ar- 
rayed by his Majesty; reverences before the altar, 
not bows but curtsies ; stiff hams : much titter- 
ing among the ladies ; trumpets, kettle-drums 
and fifes. My dear West, I am vastly delighted 
with Trianon, all of us with Chantilly ; if you 
would know why, you must have patience, for 
I can hold my pen no longer, except to tell you 
that I saw Britannicus last night ; all the char- 
acters, particularly Agrippina and Nero, done to 
perfection ; to-morrow Phaedra and Hippolitus. 
We are making you a little bundle of petites 



pieces ; there is nothing in them, but they are 
acting at present ; there are too Crebillon's Let- 
ters, and Amusemens sur le langage des Betes, 
said to be of one Bougeant, a Jesuit ; they are 
both esteemed, and lately come out. This day 
se'nnight we go to Rheims. 



THE ALPS 

[To Richard fVest, from Turing November 16, N. S., 1739] 

... I own I have not, as yet, anywhere met 
with those grand and simple works of Art, that are 
to amaze one, and whose sight one is to be the bet- 
ter for : but those of Nature have astonished me 
beyond expression. In our little journey up to the 
Grande Chartreuse, I do not remember to have 
gone ten paces without an exclamation, that there 
was no restraining : not a precipice, not a tor- 
rent, not a clifF, but is pregnant with religion and 
poetry. There are certain scenes that would awe 
an atheist into belief, without the help of other 
argument. One need not have a very fantastic 
imagination to see spirits there at noonday ; you 
have Death perpetually before your eyes, only so 
far removed, as to compose the mind without 
frighting it. I am well persuaded St. Bruno was 
a man of no common genius, to choose such a 



130 ^election0 from ti)t tlettctflf 

situation for his retirement ; and perhaps should 
have been a disciple of his, had I been born in 
his time. You may believe Abelard and Helo'ise 
were not forgot upon this occasion. If I do not 
mistake, I saw you too every now and then at a 
distance among the trees ; il me semble, que j'ai 
vu ce chien de visage la quelque part. You seemed 
to call to me from the other side of the precipice, 
but the noise of the river below was so great, that 
I really could not distinguish what you said; it 
seemed to have a cadence like verse. In your 
next you will be so good to let me know what it 
was. The week we have since passed among the 
Alps, has not equalled the single day upon that 
mountain, because the winter was rather too far 
advanced, and the weather a little foggy. How- 
ever, it did not want its beauties; the savage rude- 
ness of the view is inconceivable without seeing 
it : I reckoned in one day, thirteen cascades, the 
least of which was, I dare say, one hundred feet 
in height. I had Livy in the chaise with me, and 
beheld his " Nives coelo prope immistae, tecta in- 
formia imposita rupibus, pecora jumentaque tor- 
rida frigore, homines intonsi & inculti, animalia 
inanimaque omnia rigentia gelu ; omnia, confra- 
gosa, praeruptaque." The creatures that inhabit 
them are, in all respects, below humanity ; and 
most of them, especially women, have the tumi- 



tBmtn^ ; Wi\t SDunctaU 1 3 1 

dum guttur, which they call goscia. Mont Cenis, 
I confess, carries the permission mountains have 
of being frightful rather too far ; and its horrors 
were accompanied with too much danger to give 
one time to reflect upon their beauties. . . . 



TACITUS; THE DUNCIAD 

' [To Richard West, after March 25, 1742] 

. . . Pray do not imagine that Tacitus, of all 
authors in the world, can be tedious. An annalist, 
you know, is by no means master of his subject ; 
and I think one may venture to say, that if those 
Pannonian affairs are tedious in his hands, in 
another's they would have been insupportable. 
However, fear not, they will soon be over, and 
he will make ample amends. A man, who could 
join the brilliant of wit and concise sententious- 
ness peculiar to that age, with the truth and grav- 
ity of better times, and the deep reflection and 
good sense of the best moderns, cannot choose 
but have something to strike you. Yet what I 
admire in him above all this, is his detestation of 
tyranny, and the high spirit of liberty that every 
now and then breaks out, as it were, whether he 
would or no. I remember a sentence in his Agri- 
cola that (concise as it is) I always admired for 



132 ^tltttioM from t^t lletter^ 

saying much in a little compass. He speaks of 
Domitian, who upon seeing the last will of that 
General, where he had made him Coheir with 
his Wife and Daughter," Satis constabat laetatum 
eum, velut honore, judicioque : tam caeca & cor- 
rupta mens assiduis adulationibus erat, ut nesciret 
a bono patre non scribi haeredem, nisi malum 
principem." 

As to the Dunciad, it is greatly admired j the 
Genii of Operas and Schools, with their attend- 
ants, the pleas of the Virtuosos and Florists, and 
the yawn of dulness in the end, are as fine as any- 
thing he has written. The Metaphysicians' part 
is to me the worst; and here and there a few ill- 
expressed lines, and some hardly intelligible. . . . 



JOSEPH ANDREWS ; THE LANGUAGE OF 
POETRY 

[To Richard West, from London, after April 4, 1742] 

... I talked of the Dunciad as concluding you 
had seen it ; if you have not, do you choose I 
should get and send it you ? I have myself, upon 
your recommendation, been reading Joseph An- 
drews. The incidents are ill laid and without in- 
vention ; but the characters have a great deal of 
nature, which always pleases even in her lowest 



1 



31o0ept) anUretDflf 133 

shapes. Parson Adams is perfectly well ; so is 
Mrs. Slipslop, and the story of Wilson ; and 
throughout he shews himself well read in Stage- 
Coaches, Country Squires, Inns, and Inns of 
Court. His reflections upon high people and low 
people, and misses and masters, are very good. 
However the exaltedness of some minds (or 
rather as I shrewdly suspect their insipidity and 
want of feeling or observation) may make them 
insensible to these light things (I mean such as 
characterize and paint nature), yet surely they are 
as weighty and much more useful than your grave 
discourses upon the mind, the passions, and what 
not. Now as the paradisiacal pleasures of the 
Mahometans consist in playing upon the flute and 
lying with Houris, be mine to read eternal new 
romances of Marivaux and Crebillon. 

You are very good in giving yourself the trou- 
ble to read and find fault with my long harangues. 
Your freedom (as you call it) has so little need 
of apologies, that I should scarce excuse your 
treating me any otherwise ; which, whatever com- 
pliment it might be to my vanity, would be mak- 
ing a very ill one to my understanding. As to 
matter of style, I have this to say : the language 
of the age is never the language of poetry ; ex- 
cept among the French, whose verse, where the 
thought or image does not support it, differs in 



134 ^elections? from ti)t ilettersf 

nothing from prose. Our poetry, on the contrary, 
has a language peculiar to itself; to which almost 
every one, that has written, has added something 
by enriching it with foreign idioms and deriva- 
tives: nay sometimes wordsof their own compo- 
sition or invention. Shakespear and Milton have 
been great creators this way ; and no one more 
licentious than Pope or Dryden, who perpetually 
borrow expressions from the former. Let me give 
you some instances from Dryden, whom every- 
body reckons a great master of our poetical 
tongue. — Full of museful mopings — unlike the 
trim of love — a pleasant beverage — a roundelay 
of love — stood silent in his mood — with knots 
and knares deformed — his ireful mood — in proud 
array- — his boon was granted — and disarray and 
shameful rout — wayward but wise — furbished 
for the field — tho; foiled dodderd 02i\is — disherited 
— smouldering flames — retchless of laws — crones 
old and ugly — the beldam at his side — the gran- 
dam-hag — villanize his Father's fame. — But 
they are infinite ; and our language not being a 
settled thing (like the French) has an undoubted 
right to words of an hundred years old, provided 
antiquity have not rendered them unintelligible. 
In truth, Shakespear's language is one of his prin- 
cipal beauties ; and he has no less advantage over 
your Addisons and Rowes in this, than in those 



31o0ejpl) 3lnorftD0 135 

other great excellences you mention. Every word 
in him is a picture. Pray put me the following 
lines into the tongue of our modern Dramatics : 

But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, 
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass: 
I, that am rudely stampt, and want love's majesty 
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph: 
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, 
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, 
Deform 'd, unfinishM, sent before my time 
Jnto this breathing world, scarce half made up — 

And what follows. To me they appear untrans- 
latable ; and if this be the case, our language is 
greatly degenerated. However, the affectation of 
imitating Shakespear may doubtless be carried too 
far ; and is no sort of excuse for sentiments ill- 
suited, or speeches ill-timed, which I believe is a 
little the case with me. I guess the most faulty ex- 
pressions may be these — silken son oi dalliance — 
^/roit^jzVr pretensions — wrinkled, beldams — arched 
the hearer's brow and riveted his eyes m fearful 
extasie. These are easily altered or omitted ; and 
indeed if the thoughts be wrong or superfluous, 
there is nothing easier than to leave out the whole. 
The first ten or twelve lines are, I believe, the 
best; and as for the rest, I was betrayed into 
a good deal of it by Tacitus ;. only what he has 
said in five words, I imagine I have said in fifty 
lines. Such is the misfortune of imitating the 
inimitable . . . 



136 &titction$ from ttjr tletcerflf 



TACITUS 

\To Richard West, from London, April, 1742] 

... I think you have translated Tacitus very 
justly, that is, freely ; and accommodated his 
thoughts to the turn and genius of our language ; 
which, though I commend your judgment, is no 
commendation of the English tongue, which is 
too diffuse, and daily grows more and more en- 
ervate. One shall never be more sensible of this, 
than in turning an Author like Tacitus. I have 
been trying it in some parts of Thucydides (who 
has a little resemblance of him in his conciseness) 
and endeavoured to do it closely, but found it pro- 
duced mere nonsense. If you have any inclina- 
tion to see what figure Tacitus makes in Italian, 
I have a Tuscan translation of Davanzati, much 
esteemed in Italy ; and will send you the same 
speech you sent me; that is, if you care for it . . . 



WEST'S ODE ON MAY 

[To Richard West] 

London, May 8, 1742. 
I REJOICE to see you putting up your prayers 
to the May : she cannot choose but come at such 



OTe0t's (DDe on ^a^ 137 

a call. It is as light and genteel as herself. You 
bid me find fault ; I am afraid I cannot ; however 
I will try. The first stanza (if what you say to me 
in it did not make me think it the best) I should 
call the worst of the five (except the fourth line). 
The two next are very picturesque, Miltonic, and 
musical ; her bed is so soft and so snug that I 
long to lie with her. But those two lines " Great 
nature" are my favourites. The exclamation of 
the fTowers is a little step too far. The last stanza 
is full as good as the second and third; the last line 
bold, but I think not too bold. Now, as to my- 
self and my translation, pray do not call names. 
I never saw Broukhusius in my life. It is Scaliger 
who attempted to range Propertius in order ; who 
was, and still is, in sad condition. . . . You see, 
by what I sent you, that I converse as usual, with 
none but the dead : they are my old friends, and 
almost make me long to be with them. You will 
not wonder, therefore, that I, who live only in 
times past, am able to tell you no news of the pres- 
ent. I have finished the Peloponnesian war much 
to my honour, and a tight conflict it was, I pro- 
mise you. I have drank and sung with Anacreon 
for the last fortnight, and am now feeding sheep 
with Theocritus. Besides, to quit my figure, (be- 
cause it is foolish) I have run over Pliny's Epis- 
tles and Martial ck vapepyov ; not to mention Pe- 



138 ©elections from tjie ilettersf 

trarch, who, by the way, is sometimes very tender 
and natural. I must needs tell you three lines in 
Anacreon, where the expression seems to me in- 
imitable. He is describing hair as he would have 
it painted. 

"EAi/coy 5' 4\ev6epovi fxoi 
TlKoKdfxoov 6.TaKra avvOels 
*A0€s ws 6e\ov(Ti Keiadai. 

Guess, too, where this is about a dimple. 

Sigilla in mento impressa Amoris digitulo 
Vestigio demonstrant moUitudinem. 



GARRICK, THE DUCHESS OF QUEENS- 
BURY, ETC. 

[To John Chute, from London, May 24, N. S., 1742] 

. . . 'Tis true indeed Mr. Mann is not every- 
where ; I am shock'd to think of his sufferings, 
but he of all men was born to suffer with a good 
grace. He is a Stoick without knowing it, and 
seems to think pain a pleasure. I am very sorry 
to compliment him upon such an occasion, and 
wished with all my heart, he were not so pleased. 
I much fear his books are gone already ; but if 
not, to be sure he shall have Middleton and the 
Sofa; it seems most people here are not such 
admirers of it as I was : but I won't give up an 
inch of it, for all that. Did I tell you about Mr. 



Wi)t ^tor^ of ^a^sftnifi^fifa 139 

Garrick, that the town are horn-mad after : there 
are a dozen Dukes of a night at Goodmansfields 
sometimes, and yet I am stiff in the opposition. 
Our fifth Opera was the Olympiade^ in which 
they retained most of Pergolesi*s songs, and yet 
'tis gone already, as if it had been a poor thing 
of Galuppi*s. Two nights did I enjoy it all alone, 
snug in a nook of the gallery, but found no one 
in those regions had ever heard of Pergolesi, nay, 
I heard several affirm it was a composition of 
Pescetti's. Now there is a 6th sprung up, by the 
name of Cephalo and Procr'i, My Lady of Queens- 
bury is come out against my Lady of Marlbor- 
ough, and she has her spirit too, and her origin- 
ality, but more of the woman, I think, than 
t'other. As to the facts, it don't signify two pence 
who's in the right ; the manner of fighting, and 
character of the combatants is all : 'tis hoped old 
Sarah will at her again. A play of Mr. Glover's 
I am told, is preparing for the stage, call'd Boa- 
dicea ; it is a fine subject, but I have not an ex- 
treme opinion of him. . . . 

THE STORY OF MASSINISSA 

[To West, from London, May 27, 1742] 

I SEND you an inscription for a wood joining 
to a park of mine (it is on the confines of Mount 



140 ^elections? from tlie lletters; 

Cithaeron, on the left hand as you go to Thebes) ; 
you know I am no friend to hunters, and hate to 
be disturbed by their noise. 

'A^SfjLCvos TToXidripoP eK7)P6\ov &\(ro5 avdcraas, 

Toy Seivas re/xepr} AetTre, Kvvaye, deas' 
Movvoi &p ipQa KvvSiv ^adeuv KKayyevaiv uXayfMol, 
'Avrax^^i Nvrj^av ayporepav /ceAaSy. 

Here follows also the beginning of an Heroic 
Epistle ; but you must give me leave to tell my 
own story first, because Historians differ. Mas- 
sinissa was the son of Gala, King of the Massyli ; 
and, when very young at the head of his father's 
army, gave a most signal overthrow, to Syphax, 
King of the Masaesylians, then an ally of the Ro- 
mans. Soon after Asdrubal, son of Gisgo the 
Carthaginian General, gave the beautiful Sopho- 
nisba, his daughter, in marriage to the young 
prince. But this marriage was not consummated 
on account of Massinissa's being obliged to 
hasten into Spain, there to command his father's 
troops, who were auxiliaries of the Carthaginians. 
Their affairs at this time began to be in a bad 
condition ; and they thought it might be greatly 
for their interest, if they could bring over Syphax 
to themselves. This in time they actually effected; 
and to strengthen their new aUiance, commanded 
Asdrubal to give his daughter to Syphax. (It is 
probable their ingratitude to Massinissa arose from 



pleasures? of t^t imagination 141 

the great change of affairs, which had happened 
among the Massylians during his absence ; for 
his father and uncle were dead, and a distant re- 
lation of the royal family had usurped the throne.) 
Sophonisba was accordingly married to Syphax : 
and Massinissa, enraged at the affront, became 
a friend to the Romans. They drove the Cartha- 
ginians before them out of Spain, and carried the 
war into Africa, defeated Syphax, and took him 
prisolier ; upon which Cirtha (his capital) opened 
her gates to Laelius and Massinissa. The rest of 
the affair, the marriage, and the sending of poison, 
everybody knows. This is partly taken from 
Livy, and partly from Appian. . . . 



AKENSIDE'S PLEASURES OF THE 
IMAGINATION, ETC. 

[To Thomas Wharton^ from Cambridge, April 26, 1744] 

. . . You desire to know, it seems, what Char- 
acter the Poem of your young Friend bears here. 
I wonder to hear you ask the Opinion of a Na- 
tion, where those who pretend to judge, don't 
judge at all; and the rest (the wiser Part) wait 
to catch the Judgment of the world immediately 
above them, that is, Dick's Coffee-House, and 
the Rainbow; so that the readier Way would 



142 g)elmion0 from tl^e !letcet5 

be to ask Mrs. This and Mrs. T'other, that keeps 
the Bar there. However, to shew you I'm a Judge, 
as well as my Countrymen, tho' I have rather 
turn'd it over, than read it (but no matter : no 
more have they), it seems to me above the mid- 
dling, and now and then (but for a little while) 
rises even to the best, particularly in Description. 
It is often obscure, and even unintelligible, ^nd 
too much infected with the Hutchinson-Jargon; 
in short its great fault is that it was published at 
least nine Years too early ; and so methinks in 
a few Words, a la Mode du Temple, I have very 
pertly dispatch'd what perhaps may for several 
years have employed a very ingenious Man worth 
fifty of myself. Here is a small poem, called the 
Enthusiast, which is all pure Description, and as 
they tell me by the same Hand. Is it so, or not ? 
Item, a more bulky one upon Health, wrote by 
a physician : do you know him ? . . . 

You are much in the Right to have a taste for 
Socrates, he was a divine Man. I must tell you, 
by way of the News of the Place, that the other 
day, Mr. Fraigneau (entering upon his Profess- 
orship) made an Apology for him an Hour long 
in the Schools, and all the world, except Trinity- 
College, brought in Socrates Guilty. . . . 



arisftotle 143 

ARISTOTLE 

[To Thomas Wharton^ September ii, 1746] 

I take it very ill you should have been in the 
twentieth Year of the War, and yet say nothing 
of the Retreat from before Syracuse : is it, or is it 
not the finest Thing you ever read in your Life ? 
And how does Xenophon, or Plutarch agree with 
you ? For my Part I read Aristotle ; his Poetics, 
Politics, and Morals, though I don't well know 
which is which. In the first Place he is the hard- 
est Author by far I ever meddled with. Then he 
has a dry Conciseness, that makes one imagine 
one is perusing a Table of Contents rather than 
a Book ; it tastes for all the World like chop'd 
Hay, or rather like chop'd Logic ; for he has a 
violent Affection to that Art, being in some Sort 
his own Invention ; so that he often loses him- 
self in little trifling Distinctions and verbal Nice- 
ties, and what is worse leaves you to extricate 
yourself as you can. Thirdly, he has suffered 
vastly by the Transcribblers, as all Authors of 
great Brevity necessarily must. Fourthly and 
lastly he has abundance of fine uncommon 
Things, which make him well worth the Pains 
he gives one. . . . 



144 ^elections? from t\)t llettersf 

WARTON AND COLLINS 

[To Thomas Wharton, probably from Cambridge, December 27, 1746] 

. . . Have you seen the Works of two young 
Authors, a Mr. Warton and a Mr. Collins, both 
Writers of Odes? It is odd enough, but each is 
the half of a considerable Man, and one the 
counterpart of the other. The first has but little 
Invention, very poetical choice of Expression, 
and a good Ear. The second, a fine fancy, mod- 
el'd upon the Antique, a bad Ear, great Variety 
of Words, and Images with no Choice at all.They 
both deserve to last some years, but will not . . . 



COLLEY CIBBER'S CICERO I 

[To Horace Walpoh, from Cambridge, 1747] 

I had been absent from this place a few days, 
and at my return found Cibber*s book upon my 
table : I return you my thanks for it, and have 
already run over a considerable part ; for who 
could resist Mrs. Letitia Pilkington's recommen- 
dation ? (By the way is there any such gentle- 
woman ? Or has somebody put on the style of 
a scribbling woman's panegyric to deceive and 
laugh at Colley?) He seems to me full as pert 



Collet €ihhtt's €ictto 145 

and as dull as usual. There are whole pages of 
common-place stuff, that for stupidity might have 
been wrote by Dr. Waterland, or any other grave 
divine, did not the flirting saucy phrase give them 
at a distance an air of youth and gaity. It is very 
true, he is often in the right with regard to Tully's 
weaknesses ; but was there any one that did not 
see them ? Those, I imagine, that would find a 
man after God's own heart, are no more likely 
to trust the Doctor's recommendation than the 
Player's ; and as to Reason and Truth, would they 
know their own faces, do you think, if they looked 
in the glass, and saw themselves so bedizened in 
tattered fringe and tarnished lace, in French jew- 
els, and dirty furbelows, the frippery of a stroller's 
wardrobe ? 

Literature, to take it in its most comprehen- 
sive sense, and include everything that requires 
invention or judgment, or barely application and 
industry, seems indeed drawing apace to its dis- 
solution, and remarkably since the beginning of 
the war. I remember to have read Mr. Spence's 
pretty book ; though (as he then had not been at 
Rome for the last time) it must have increased 
greatly since that in bulk. If you ask me what I 
read, I protest I do not recollect one syllable ; 
but only in general, that they were the best bred 
sort of men in the world, just the kind of /rinds 



146 ^tltttiona from t\)t ilettersi 

one would wish to meet in a fine summer's even- 
ing, if one wished to meet any at all. The heads 
and tails of the dialogues, published separate in 
l6mo, would make the sweetest reading in natiur 
for young gentlemen of family and fortune, that 
are learning to dance. I rejoice to hear there is 
such a crowd of dramatical performances coming 
upon the stage. . . . 



SPENCE'S POLYMETIS 

\To Horace Walpole, from Cambridge, 1747] 

I have abundance of thanks to return you for 
the entertainment Mr. Spence's book has given 
me, which I have almost run over already ; and 
I much fear (see what it is to make a figure) the 
breadth of the margin, and the neatness of the 
prints, which are better done than one could ex- 
pect, have prevailed upon me to like it far better 
than I did in manuscript ; for I think it is not the 
very genteel deportment of Polymetis, nor the 
lively wit of Mysagetes, that have at all corrupted 
me. 

There is one fundamental fault, from whence 
most of the little faults throughout the whole 
arise. He professes to neglect the Greek writers, 
who could have given him more instruction on 



^pence'0 ^oi^mttifi 147 

the very heads he professes to treat, than all the 
others put together ; who does not know, that 
upon the Latin, the Sabine and Hetruscan myth- 
ology (which probably might themselves, at a 
remoter period of time, owe their origin to Greece 
too) the Romans ingrafted almost the whole re- 
ligion of Greece to make what is called their own ? 
It would be hard to find any one circumstance 
that is properly of their invention. In the ruder 
days of the republic, the picturesque part of their 
religion (which is the province he has chose, and 
would be thought to confine himself to) was prob- 
ably borrowed entirely from the Tuscans, who, 
as a wealthy and trading people, may be well sup- 
posed, and indeed are known, to have had the 
arts flourishing in a considerable degree among 
them. What could inform him here, but Dio. 
Halicarnassus (who expressly treats of those times 
with great curiosity and industry) and the remains 
of the first Roman writers ? The former he has 
neglected as a Greek ; and the latter, he says, 
were but little acquainted with the arts, and con- 
sequently are but of small authority. In the better 
ages, when every temple and public building in 
Rome was peopled with imported deities and he- 
roes, and when all the artists of reputation they 
made use of were Greeks, what wonder, if their 
eyes grew familiarised to Grecian forms and habits 



148 ^election0 from tlie ilettersi 

(especially in a matter of this kind, where so 
much depends upon the imagination) ; and if 
those figures introduced with them a belief of 
such fables, as first gave them being, and dressed 
them out in their various attributes, it was nat- 
ural then, and (I should think) necessary, to go to 
the source itself, the Greek accounts of their own 
religion ; but to say the truth, I suspect he was a 
little conversant in those books and that language; 
for he rarely quotes any but Lucian, an author 
that falls in everybody's way, and who lived at 
the very extremity of that period he has set to 
his enquiries, later than any of the poets he has 
meddled with, and for that reason ought to have 
been regarded as but an indifferent authority ; 
especially being a Syrian too. His book (as he 
says himself) is, I think, rather a beginning than 
a perfect work ; but a beginning at the wrong 
end : for if anybody should finish it by enquiring 
into the Greek mythology, as he proposes, it will 
be necessary to read it backward. 

There are several little neglects, that one might 
have told him of, which I noted in reading it 
hastily ; as page 3 1 1 , a discourse about orange- 
trees, occasioned by Virgil's " inter odoratum 
lauri nemus," where he fancies the Roman Lau- 
rus to be our Laurel ; though undoubtedly the 
bay-tree, which is odoratum^ and (I believe) still 



lll^ttelton'0 Cleg^ 149 

called Lauro, or Alloro, at Rome ; and that the 
" Malum Medicum " in the Georgic is the 
orange; though Theophrastus, whence Virgil 
borrowed it, or even Pliny, whom he himself 
quotes, might convince him it is the cedrato which 
he has often tasted at Florence. Page 144 is an 
account of Domenichino's Cardinal Virtues, and 
a fling at the Jesuits, neither of which belong to 
them. The painting is in a church of the Bar- 
nabiti,'dedicated to St. Carlo Borromeo, whose 
motto is HuMiLiTAS. Page 151, in a note, he 
says, the old Romans did not regard Fortune as 
a Deity; tho' Servius Tullius (whom she was 
said to be in love with ; nay, there was actually 
an affair between them) founded her temple in 
Foro Boario. By the way, her worship was Greek, 
and this king was educated in the family of Tar- 
quinius Priscus, whose father was a Corinthian ; 
so it is easy to conceive how early the religion 
of Rome might be mixed with that of Greece, 
etc. etc. . . . 



LYTTELTON'S ELEGY, ETC. 

[To Horace Walpole, from Cambridge, November, 1747] 

... I am not totally of your mind as to Mr. 
Lyttleton's elegy, though I love kids and fawns 



150 Selections? from t^e iletter^ 

as little as you do. If it were all like the fourth 
stanza, I should be excessively pleased. Nature 
and sorrow, and tenderness, are the true genius 
of such things ; and something of these I find in 
several parts of it (not in the orange-tree) : poet- 
ical ornaments, are foreign to the purpose ; for 
they only shew a man is not sorry ; — and devo- 
tion worse ; for it teaches him that he ought not 
to be sorry, which is all the pleasure of the thing. 
I beg leave to turn your weathercock the con- 
trary way. Your epistle I have not seen a great 
while, and Dr. M — is not in the way to give me 
a sight of it : but I remember enough to be sure 
all the world will be pleased with it, even with all 
Its faults upon its head^ if you don't care to mend 
them. I would try to do it myself (however 
hazardous), rather than it should remain unpub- 
lished. . . . 

[To Thomas Wharton, from Cambridge, November 30, 1747] 

. . . Have you seen Lyttelton's Monody on 
his Wife's Death ? There are Parts of it too stiff 
and poetical ; but others truly tender and elegiac, 
as one would wish. Dodsley is publishing three 
Miscellaneous Volumes ; some new, many that 
have been already printed. Lyttelton, Nugent, 
and G. West have given him several Things of 
theirs. Mr. W [alpole] has given him three Odes 



He ^prcliant, Ht ^Uyrtt^ 1 5 1 

of mine (which you have seen before) and one of 
Mr. West's (my friend who is dead) which in 
spite of the Subject is excellent : it is on the late 
Queen's Death. There is a Mr. Archibald 
Bower, a Scotchman bred in Italy, Professor in 
three Universities there, and of the Inquisition. 
He was employed by the Court of Rome to write 
a History of the Popes. As he searched into the 
Materials, his eyes were open'd : he came to Eng- 
land' has changed his religion, and continues his 
Work in our language under the patronage of Mr. 
Pitt, the Yorks, &c. The Preface is come out 
with the Proposals, and promises exceeding well. 
Doubtless there is no part of history more curi- 
ous, if it be well perform'd. . . . 



LE MfeCHANT, LE SIDNEY, ETC. 

[To Thomas Wharton, probably from Cambridge, June 5, 1748] 

. . . Your opinion of Diodorus is doubtless 
right; but there are Things in him very curious, 
got out of better Authors, now lost. Do you re- 
member the Egyptian History, and particularly 
the account of the Gold-Mines ? My own Read- 
ings have been cruelly interrupted. What I have 
been highly pleased with is the new Comedy from 
Paris, by Gresset ; Le Mechant, one of the very 



152 ©eUctionsf from tl^t !Letcer0 

best Dramas I ever met with. If you have it not, 
buy his Works altogether in two little Volumes. 
They are collected by the Dutch Booksellers, and 
consequently there is some Trash ; but then there 
are the Ver-vert, the epistle to P. Bougeant, the 
Chartreuse, that to his sister, an ode on his Coun- 
try, and another on Mediocrity ; and the Sidnei, 
another comedy, which have great beauties. There 
is a poem by Thomson, the Castle of Indolence, 
with some good Stanzas. Mr. Mason is my ac- 
quaintance : I liked that Ode very much, but have 
found no one else, that did. He has much Fancy, 
little Judgement, and a good deal of Modesty. I 
take him for a good and well-meaning Creature ; 
but then he is really in Simplicity a Child^ and 
loves everybody he meets with : he reads little or 
nothing, writes abundance, and that -with a design 
to make his fortune by it. . . . 



DODSLEY'S MISCELLANY 

\To Horace Walpole, 1748] 

I am obliged to you for Mr. Dodsley's book, 
and having pretty well looked it over, will (as you 
desire) tell you my opinion of it. He might, me- 
thinks, have spared the graces in his frontispiece, 
if he chose to be economical, and dressed his 



2]>oi)0le^'sf £pi0cellan^ 1 5 3 

authors in a little more decent raiment — not in 
whited-brown paper, and distorted characters, like 
an old ballad. I am ashamed to see myself; but 
the company keeps me in countenance : so to be- 
gin with Mr. Tickell. This is not only a state- 
poem (my ancient aversion), but a state-poem on 
the peace of Utrecht. If Mr. Pope had wrote a 
panegyric on it, one could hardly have read him 
with patience : but this is only a poor short- 
winded imitator of Addison, who had himself not 
above three or four notes in poetry, sweet enough 
indeed, like those of a German flute, but such as 
soon tire and satiate the ear with their frequent 
return. Tickell has added to this a great poverty 
of sense, and a string of transitions that hardly 
become a school-boy. However, I forgive him 
for the sake of his ballad, which I always thought 
the prettiest in the world. 

All there is of M. Green here, has been printed 
before ; there is a profusion of wit everywhere ; 
reading would have formed his judgment, and har- 
monised his verse, for even his wood-notes often 
break out into strains of real poetry and music. 
The " School Mistress " is excellent in its kind 
and masterly ; and (I am sorry to differ from you, 
but) " London" is to me one of those few imita- 
tions that have all the ease and all the spirit of an 
original. The same man's verses on the opening 



154 ^flmiottflf from tlje iimersi 

of Garrick's theatre are far from bad. Mr. Dyer 
(here you will despise me highly) has more of 
poetry in his imagination than almost any of our 
number ; but rough and injudicious. I should 
range Mr. Bramston only a step or two above Dr. 
King, who is as low in my estimation as in yours. 
Dr. Evans is a furious madman ; and pre-exist- 
ence is nonsense in all her altitudes. Mr. Lyttle- 
ton is a gentle elegiac person. Mr. Nugent sure 
did not write his own Ode. I like Mr. White- 
head's little poems, I mean the Ode on a Tent, 
the Verses to Garrick, and particularly those to 
Charles Townsend, better than anything I had 
seen before of him. I gladly pass over H. Browne 
and the rest, to come at you. You know I was 
of the publishing side, and thought your reasons 
against it none ; for though, as Mr. Chute said 
extremely well, the still small voice of Poetry was 
not made to be heard in a crowd ; yet satire will 
be heard, for all the audience are by nature her 
friends ; especially when she appears in the spirit 
of Dryden, with his strength, and often with his 
versification, such as you have caught in those 
lines on the Royal Unction, on the Papal Domin- 
ion, and Convents of both Sexes; on Henry VIII. 
and Charles II. for these are to me the shining 
parts of your Epistle. There are many lines I 
could wish corrected, and some blotted out, but 



SOoUfiile^'flf ^isfcellan^ 155 

beauties enough to atone for a thousand worse 
faults than these. The opinion of such as can at 
all judge, who saw it before in Dr. Middleton's 
hands, concurs nearly with mine. As to what 
any one says, since it came out ; our people (you 
must know), are slow of judgment ; they wait 
till some bold body saves them the trouble, and 
then follow his opinion ; or stay till they hear 
what^ is said in town, that is at some Bishop's 
table, or some coffee-house about the Temple. 
When they are determined I will tell you faith- 
fully their verdict. As for the beauties I am their 
most humble servant. What shall I say to Mr. 
Lowth, Mr. Ridley, Mr. Rolle, the Reverend 
Mr. Brown, Seward, etc. ? If I say Messieurs ! 
this is not the thing ; write prose, write sermons, 
write nothing at all ; they will disdain me and 
my advice. What then would the sickly Peer have 
done, that spends so much time in admiring 
everything that has four legs, and fretting at his 
own misfortune in having but two ; and cursing 
his own politic head and feeble constitution, that 
won't let him be such a beast as he would wish ? 
Mr. S. Jenyns now and then can write a good 
line or two — such as these — 

*' Snatch us from all our little sorrows here, 
Calm every grief, and dry each childish tear," etc. 

I like Mr. Aston Hervey's Fable ; and an Ode 



156 ^tltttionsi from tl^e Utttttisi 

(the last of all) by Mr. Mason, a new acquaintance 
of mine, whose Musaeus too seems to carry with 
it a promise at least of something good to come. 
I was glad to see you distinguished who poor 
West was, before his charming Ode, and called 
it anything rather than a Pindaric. The town is 
an owl, if it don't like Lady Mary, and I am sur- 
prised at it : we here are owls enough to think 
her eclogues very bad ; but that I did not 
wonder at. Our present taste is Sir T. Fitz-v 
Osborne's Letters. . . . 



CRESSET, ETC. 

[To Thomas Wharton, from Stoke, August 19, 1748] 

... I am glad you have had any Pleasure in 
Cresset : he seems to me a truly elegant and 
charming Writer. The Mechant is the best com- 
edy I ever read. Edward I could scarce get 
through : it is puerile ; tho' there are good lines ; 
such as this for Example : 

Le jour d'un nouveau regiie est le jour des ingrats. 

But good Lines will make anything rather than 
a good Play. However you are to consider, this 
is a Collection made by the Dutch Booksellers. 
Many Things unfinish'd or wrote in his Youth, 



^onte0quiett'0 fl'Csfprit tie0 !loir 157 

or designed not for the World, but to make a few 
Friends laugh, as the Lutrin vivant, &c. : there 
are two noble Verses, which as they are in the 
middle of an Ode to the King^ may perhaps have 
escaped you : 

Le Cri d'un peuple heureux, est la seule Eloquence, 
Qui sjait parler des Rois. 

which is very true, and should have been a Hint 
to hjmself not to write Odes to the King at 
all. . . . 



MONTESQUIEU'S L' ESPRIT DES LOIX 

[To Thomas Wharton, from Cambridge, March 9, 1749] 

You ask for some Account of Books. The 
principal I can tell you of is a work of the Pres- 
ident Montesquieu's, the Labour ot twenty Years. 
It is called, L'Esprit des Loix, 2 vols. 4to. printed 
at Geneva. He lays down the Principles on which 
are founded the three Sorts of Government, Des- 
potism, the limited Monarchic, and the Repub- 
lican, and shews how from thence are deducted 
the Laws and Customs, by which they are guided 
and maintained : the Education proper to each 
Form, the influences of Climate, Situation, re- 
ligion, &c.: on the Minds of particular Nations, 
and on their Policy. The Subject (you see) is as 



158 ^tltttion& from tl^r ILettersf 

extensive as Mankind; the Thoughts perfectly 
new, generally admirable, as they are just, some- 
times a little too refined : in short there are Faults, 
but such as an ordinary Man could never have 
committed : the Style very lively and concise (con- 
sequently sometimes obscure); it is the Gravity of 
Tacitus (whom he admires) temper'd with the 
Gayety and fire of a Frenchman. . . . 



CREBILLON'S CATILINA, ETC. 

[To Thomas Wharton, from Cambridge, April 25, 1749] 

. . . Rosse's "Epistles of Tully ad Familiares" 
will come out in about a Week. It is in two hand- 
some 8vo Volumes, with an Introduction and 
Notes in English, but no Translation, dedicated 
to Lord Gower. Now I am come to Books, there 
is a new edition of Montesquieu's Work (which 
I mentioned to you before) publishing in 2 vols. 
8vo. Have you seen old Crebillon's " Catilina, a 
Tragedy," which has had a prodigious Run at 
Paris? Historical Truth is too much perverted 
by it, which is ridiculous in a Story so generally 
known : but if you can get over this, the Senti- 
ments and Versification are fine, and most of the 
Characters (particularly the principal one) painted 
with great Spirit. Observe, if you chuse to send 



Crtbillon'0 CatiUna 159 

for it, not to have Brindley's Edition, which is all 
false Prints, but Vaillant's. There is a Work pub- 
lishing in Denmark by Subscription (4 guineas) 
''Travels in Egypt," by Captain Norden. He 
was once in England (as Tutor to a young Count 
Daniskiold, hereditary Admiral of Denmark) and 
known to many Persons for a Man of Sense, and 
that understood Drawing extremely well : ac- 
cordingly it is the Plates, that raise it to such a 
Price,1and are said to be excellent. The Author 
himself is dead, and his papers are publish'd by 
the Academy at Copenhagen. Mr. Birch, the in- 
defatigable, has just put out a thick 8vo of orig- 
inal papers of Queen Elizabeth's Time. There 
are many curious Things in it, particularly Letters 
from Sir Robert Cecil (Salisbury) about his Nego- 
tiations with Henry the Fourth of France ; the 
Earl of Monmouth's odd Account of Queen 
Elizabeth's Death, several Peculiarities of James 
First, and Prince Henry, &c. ; and above all an 
excellent Account of the State of France with 
Characters of the King, his Court and Ministry, 
by Sir G. Carew, Ambassador there. This, I think, 
is all new worth mentioning, that I have seen or 
heard of, except a natural History of Peru in 
Spanish, printed at London by Don some- 
thing, a Man of Learning, sent thither by that 
Court on Purpose. ... 



i6o ^election0 from t^e Mttttt^ 

MASON 

[To Thomas Wharton, from Cambridge, August 8, 1749] 

. . . Mason's Ode was the only Entertainment, 
that had any tolerable Elegance ; and for my own 
Part, I think it (with some little abatements) un- 
commonly well on such an Occasion. Pray let 
me know your Sentiments, for doubtless you have 
seen it. The Author of it grows apace into my 
good Graces, as I know him more : he is very 
ingenious with great Good-Nature and Simplicity. 
A little vain, but in so harmless and so comical 
a Way, that it does not offend one at all ; a little 
ambitious, but withal so ignorant in the World 
and its Ways, that this does not hurt him in one's 
Opinion. So sincere and so undisguised, that no 
Mind with a Spark of Generosity would ever 
think of hurting him, he lies so open to Injury. 
But so indolent, that if he cannot overcome this 
Habit, all his good Qualities will signify nothing 
at all. After all I like him so well, I could wish 
you knew him. . ; . 

ASHTON'S DISSERTATION 

[To Horace Wdlpole, from Stoke, June 12, 1750] 

. . . Now I have talked of writings, I have 
seen a book which is by this time in the press. 



^intoitt Dtt Cabinet Ou Mot i6i 

against Middleton (though without naming him), 
by Ashton. As far as I can judge from a very hasty 
reading, there are things in it new and ingenious, 
but rather too prolix, and the style here and there 
savouring too strongly of sermon. I imagine it 
will do him credit. ... 



BUFFON AND D'AUBENTON'S HISTOIRE 
DU CABINET DU ROI 

[To Thomas Wharton] 

Stoke, August 9, 1750. 

My dear Wharton — Aristotle says (one 
may write Greek to you without scandal) that 
Oi [yapj TOTTOi ov StaXvovtrt rrjv (fjLXiav aTrAuis, dAAa 
rr)V ivepyeiav. 'Eav 8e ;(povtos 17 airova-Ca yen^ai, kol 
rrjs ^tXias BoKel Xi^Orjv iroieiv' oOev ct/oiyrat, 

TToWebs 8^ <f>i\ia$ avpoffriyopla SieKvaev. 

But Aristotle may say whatever he pleases. I do 
not find myself at all the worse for it. I could 
indeed wish to refresh my ^Evipyeia a little at Dur- 
ham by a Sight of you, but when is there a Prob- 
ability of my being so happy ? It concerned me 
greatly when I heard the other Day, that your 
Asthma continued at Times to afflict you, and 
that you were often obliged to go into the Coun- 
try to breathe. You cannot oblige me more than 



i62 g^elections? from tl^e ilectetflf 

by giving me an account of the State both of your - 
Body and Mind ; I hope the latter is able to keep 
you cheerful and easy in spite of the Frailties of 
its Companion. As to my own, it can do neither 
one, nor the other; and I have the Mortification 
to find my spiritual Part the most infirm Thing 
about me. You have doubtless heard of the loss 
I have had in Dr. Middleton, whose House was 
the only easy Place one could find to converse in 
at Cambridge. For my Part I find a Friend so 
uncommon a Thing, that I cannot help regret- 
ting even an old Acquaintance, which is an in- 
different Likeness of it, and though I don't ap- 
prove the Spirit of his Books, methinks 'tis pity 
the World should lose so rare a Thing as a good 
Writer. My studies cannot furnish a Recom- 
mendation of many new Books to you. There is 
a Defense de I'Esprit des Loix, by Montesquieu 
himself. It has some lively things in it, but is 
very short, and his Adversary appears to be so 
mean a Bigot, that he deserved no Answer. 
There are three vols, in 4to of Histoire de Cabi- 
net du Roi, by Messrs. BufFon and D'Aubenton. 
The first is a Man of Character, but (I am told) 
has hurt it by this Work. It is all a sort. of In- 
troduction to Natural History. The weak Part 
of it is a Love of System, which runs through it, 
the most contrary Thing in the World to a Sci- 



t^iflftoire Ou Cabinet Du Moi 163 

ence, entirely grounded upon Experiments, and 
that has nothing to do with Vivacity of Imagina- 
tion. There are some microscopical Observations, 
that seem'd curious to me, on those Animalcula 
to which we are supposed to owe our Origin ; 
and which he has discovered of like Figure in 
Females not pregnant, and in almost every Thing 
we use for Nourishment, even Vegetables, par- 
ticularly in their Fruits and Seeds. Not that he 
allow^them to be animated Bodies, but Molecules 
organisees. If you ask what that is, I cannot tell ; 
no more than I can understand a new System of 
Generation which he builds upon it. But what I 
was going to commend is a general View he gives 
of the Face of the Earth, followed by a particular 
one of all known Nations, their peculiar Figure 
and Manners, which is the best Epitome of Geo- 
graphy I ever met with, and wrote with Sense, 
and Elegance : in short these Books are well 
worth turning over. The Memoires of the Abbe 
de Mongon in five vols, are highly commended, 
but I have not seen them. He was engaged in 
several Embassies to Germany, England, &c., 
during the Course of the late War. The Presid. 
Renault's Abrege Chronologique de THistoire 
de France I believe I have before mentioned to 
you, as a very good Book of its Kind. 



1 64 ^tltttion^ from t|ie llctterflf 



MASON'S ELFRIDA 

[To Horace JValpole, from Cambridge, Ash-JVednesday, 1751] 

. . . You will take me for a mere poet, and 
a fetcher and carrier of sing-song, if I tell you 
that I intend to send you the beginning of a 
drama, not mine, thank God, as you will believe, 
when you hear it is finished, but wrote by a per- 
son whom I have a very good opinion of. It is 
(unfortunately) in the manner of the ancient 
drama, with choruses, which I am to my shame 
the occasion of; for, as great part of it was at 
first written in that form, I would not suffer him 
to change it to a play fit for the stage, and as he 
intended, because the lyric parts are the best of 
it, they must have been lost. The story is Saxon, 
and the language has a tang of Shakespeare, that 
suits an old-fashioned fable very well. In short 
I don't do it merely to amuse you, but for the 
sake of the author, who wants a judge, and so I 
would lend him mine: yet not without your leave, 
lest you should have us up to dirty our stockings 
at the bar of your house, for wasting the time and 
politics of the nation. 



tletter0 ^ttfixtn to ^asfon'0 Clfrtoa 165 

THE FINE LADY, ETC. 

\To Horace fValpole, from Cambridge, March 3, 1751] 

. . . Gil Bias is the Lying Falet in five acts. 
The Fine Lady has half a dozen good lines dis- 
persed in it. Pompey is the hasty production of 
a Mr. Coventry (cousin to him you knew), a 
young clergyman ; I found it out by three char- 
acters^ which once made part of a comedy that 
he shewed me of his own writing. Has that mir- 
acle of tenderness and sensibility (as she calls it) 
Lady Vane given you any amusement ? Peregrine^ 
whom she uses as a vehicle, is very poor indeed, 
with a few exceptions. In the last volume is a 
character of Mr. Lyttleton, under the name of 
" Gosling Scrag," and a parody of part of his 
Monody, under the notion of a Pastoral on the 
death of his grandmother. 

REMARKS ON THE LETTERS PREFIXED 
TO MASON'S ELFRIDA 

\To William Mason, from Cambridge, 1751] 
I 

Dear Sir- — very bad; I am yours — equally 
bad : it is impossible to conciliate these passages 
to nature and Aristotle. 



1 66 ^flfctionfli from t^e !lmer0 

" Allowed to modern caprice." — It is not caprice 
but good sense that made these alterations in the 
modern drama. A greater liberty in the choice 
of the fable and the conduct of it was the nec- 
essary consequence of retrenching the Chorus. 
Love and tenderness delight in privacy. The soft 
effusions of the soul, Mr. Mason, will not bear 
the presence of a gaping, singing, dancing, moral- 
ising, uninteresting crowd : and not love alone, 
but every passion, is checked and cooled by this 
fiddling crew. How could Macbeth and his wife 
have laid the design for Duncan's murder ? What 
could they have said to each other in the hall at 
midnight not only if a chorus but if a single 
mouse had been stirring there ? Could Hamlet 
have met the Ghost or taken his mother to task 
in their Company ? If Othello had said a harsh 
word to his wife before them^ would they not 
have danced to the window and called the watch ? 

The ancients were perpetually crossed and 
harassed by the necessity of using the Chorus, 
and, if they have done wonders notwithstanding 
this clog, sure I am they would have performed 
still greater wonders without it. For the same 
reason we may be allowed to admit of more in- 
trigue in our drama, to bring about a great action 
— it is often an essential requisite ; and it is not 
fair to argue against this liberty for that misuse 



flettersf prefireD to ^asfon'sf d^lfrina 167 

of it which is common to us, and was formerly 
so with the French, namely, the giving in to a 
silly intimacy of plot, in imitation of the Spanish 
dramas. We have also, since Charles the Second's 
time, imitated the French (though but awk- 
wardly) in framing scenes of mere insipid gal- 
lantry ; but these were the faults of the writers 
and not of the art, which enables us, with the 
help of a little contrivance, to have as much love 
as we please, without playing the petits maitres 
or building labyrinths. 

I forgot to mention that Comedy continued to 
be an odd sort of farce, very like those of the 
Italian theatre, till the Chorus was dismissed, 
when nature and Menander brought it into that 
beautiful form which we find in Terence. Trag- 
edy was not so happy till modern times. 

II 

I do not admit that the excellences of the 
French writers are measured by the verisimilitude 
or the regularities of their dramas only. Nothing 
in them, or in our own, even Shakespere himself, 
ever touches us, unless rendered verisimile^ which, 
by good management, may be accomplished even 
in such absurd stories as the Tempest, the witches 
in Macbeth, or the fairies in the Midsummer 



i68 ^titttionsi from t\\t lletteri^ 

Night's Dream ; and I know not of any writer 
that has pleased chiefly in proportion to his reg- 
ularity. Other beauties may, indeed, be height- 
ened and set ofF by its means, but of itself it 
hardly pleases at all. Venice Preserved or Jane 
Shore are not so regular as the Orphan, or Tamer- 
lane, or Lady Jane Grey. 



Ill 

Modern Melpomene. — Here are we got into 
our tantarems ! It is certain that pure poetry may 
be introduced without any Chorus. I refer you 
to a thousand passages of mere description in the 
Iambic parts of Greek tragedies, and to ten thous- 
and in Shakspere, who is moreover particularly 
admirable in his introduction of pure poetry, so 
as to join it with pure passion, and yet keep close 
to nature. This he could accomplish with pas- 
sions the most violent and transporting, and this 
any good writer may do with passions less im- 
petuous ; for it is nonsense to imagine that tragedy 
must throughout be agitated with the furious pas- 
sions, or attached by the tender ones : the greater 
part of it must often be spent in a preparation 
of these passions, in a gradual working them up 
to the light, and must thus pass through a great 
many cooler scenes and a variety of nuances^ each 



!letter0 prefivctj to ^a0on'0 Clfrioa 169 

of which will admit of a proper degree of poetry, 
and some the purest poetry. Nay, the boldest 
metaphors, and even description in its strongest 
colouring, are the natural expression of some pas- 
sions, even in their greatest agitation. As to moral 
reflections, there is sufficient room for them in 
those cooler scenes that I have mentioned, and 
they make the greatest ornaments of those parts, 
that is to say, if they are well joined with the 
character. If not, they had better be left to the 
audience than put into the mouths of a set of 
professed moralists, who keep a shop of sentences 
and reflections (I mean the Chorus), whether 
they be sages, as you call them, or young girls 
that learnt them by heart out of their samples 
and primers. 

There is nothing ungracious or improper in 
Jane Shore's reflections on the fate of women, 
but just the contrary, only that they are in rhyme; 
and, in like manner, it is far from a beautiful 
variety when the Chorus makes a transition in 
the — from plain iambics to high-flown lyric 
thoughts, expressions, and numbers, and, when 
their vagaries are over, relapse again into com- 
mon sense and conversation. A confidante in 
skilful hands might be a character, and have both 
sense and dignity. That in MafFei's Merope has 
as much as any Chorus. 



170 ^elettionsf from t\^t ILectersf 

The Greeks might sing better than the French, 
but I'll be burnt if they danced with more grace, 
expression, or even pathos. Yet who ever thought 
of shedding tears at a French opera ? 

IV 

If modern music cannot, as you say, express 
poetry, it is not a perfection, but a deterioration. 
You might as well say that the perfectionnement 
of poetry would be the rendering it incapable of 
expressing the passions. 



MIDDLETON'S WORKS, ETC. 

\To Horace Walpole] 

Cambridge, October 8, 1751. 

I send you this (as you desire) merely to make 
up half a dozen ; though it will hardly answer 
your end in furnishing out either a head or a tail- 
piece. But your own fable may much better sup- 
ply the place. You have altered it to its advantage ; 
but there is still something a little embarrassed 
here and there in the expression. I rejoice to find 
you apply (pardon the use of so odious a word) 
to the history of your own times. Speak, and 
spare not. Be as impartial as you can ; and after 



cpiDDleton'fif OTorfefli 1 7 1 

all, the world will not believe you are so, though 
you should make as many protestations as bishop 
Burnet. They will feel in their own breast, and 
find it very possible to hate fourscore persons, 
yea, ninety and nine : so you must rest satisfied 
with the testimony of your own conscience. Some- 
body has laughed at Mr. Dodsley, or at me, when 
they talked of the bat : I have nothing more either 
nocturnal or diurnal, to deck his miscellany with. 
We4iave a man here that writes a good hand ; but 
he has little failings that hinder my recommending 
him to you. He is lousy, and he is mad : he sets out 
this week for Bedlam ; but if you insist upon 
it, I don't doubt he will pay his respects to you. 
I have seen two of Dr. Middleton's unpublished 
works. One is about 44 pages in 4to. against 
Dr. Waterland, who wrote a very orthodox book 
on the Importance of the Doctrine of the Trinity^ 
and insisted that Christians ought to have no com- 
munion with such as differ from them in funda- 
mentals. Middleton enters no farther into the 
doctrine itself than to shew that a mere speculat- 
ive point can never be called a fundamental : and 
that the earlier fathers, on whose concurrent 
tradition Waterland would build, are so far, when 
they speak of the three persons, from agreeing 
with the present notion of our church, that they 
declare for the inferiority of the Son, and seem 



172 ^elettionsf from t^e ilettersf 

to have no clear and distinct idea of the Holy 
Ghost at all. The rest is employed in exposing 
the folly and cruelty of stiffness and zealotism 
in religion, and in shewing that the primitive ages 
of the church, in which tradition had its rise, 
were (even by the confession of the best scholars 
and most orthodox writers) the ara of nonsense 
and absurdity. It is finished and very well wrote ; 
but has been mostly incorporated into his other 
works, particularly the enquiry ; and for this rea- 
son, I suppose, he has writ upon it, " This wholly 
laid aside^** The second is in Latin, on miracles ; 
to shew, that of the two methods of defending 
Christianity, one from its intrinsic evidence, the 
holiness and purity of its doctrines, the other 
from its external, the miracles said to be wrought 
confirm it ; the first has been little attended to 
by reason of its difficulty ; the second much in- 
sisted upon, because it appeared an easier task; 
but that, in reality, it can prove nothing at all. 
" Nobilis ilia quidem defensio (the first) quam 
si obtinere potuissent, rem simul omnem expe- 
diisse, causamque penitus vicisse viderentur. At 
causae hujus defendendae labor cum tanta argu- 
mentandi cavillandique molestia conjunctus, ad 
alteram, quam dixi, defensionis viam, ut commo- 

diorem longe et faciliorem, plerosque adegit 

ego vero istiusmodi defensione religionem nostram 



^pentoto b^ iFrrUmck II. 1 73 

non modo non confirmari, sed dubiam potius sus- 
pectamque reddi existimo." He then proceeds 
to consider miracles in general, and afterwards 
those of the Pagans compared with those of Christ. 
I only tell you the plan, for I have not read it out 
(though it is short) ; but you will not doubt to 
what conclusion it tends. There is another thing, 
I know not what, I am to see. As to the Treatise 
on Prayer^ they say it is burnt indeed. 



MEMOIRS BY FREDERICK II., ETC. 

\To Thomas Wharton^ from Cambridge, December i8, 1751] 

His Prussian Majesty has published the Suite 
lies Memoir es^ pour servir a I'Histoire de la Mai- 
son de Brandebourg, which includes a very free 
account of his Grandfather's Life, who was the 
first King of that House, reflections on the grad- 
ual Advance in science. Commerce, &c., of his 
Subjects, and on their Changes in Religion. It is 
much in Voltaire's Manner. The book itself 
is at present hard to be got, but you may see 
a good Extract of it in the Mercure historique^ a 
Work published Monthly : whether it is in that 
for October or September I cannot justly say. 
There is also an account of the History of Cru- 
sades, which seems to be Voltaire's, and promises 



1 74 g^electtonsf from t\)t llettersf 

well. I hear talk of a Pamphlet, called Voix du 
Sage et du Peuple, ascribed to Montesquieu ; and 
a book, styled only Lettres^ by the Procureur 
General, Fleury, on the Power of the Clergy in 
France, but have not seen either of them, being 
very scarce as yet. Mr. de BufFon has discovered 
the Speculum of Archimedes, which burns at 200 
Foot distance ; and a chymist in . . . 



MADAME DE MAINTENON'S LETTERS, 

ETC. 

\To Thomas Wharton, from Cambridge, probably in 1752] 

. . . de Maintenon's Letters; they are un- 
doubtedly genuine. They begin very early in her 
Life, before she married Scarron j and continue 
after the King's Death to within a little while 
of her own. They bear all the marks of a noble 
Spirit (in her adversity particularly), of Virtue, 
and unaffected Devotion, insomuch that I am 
almost persuaded she indulged Lewis the 14th 
in no Liberties, till he actually married her, and 
this not out of Policy and Ambition, but Con- 
science ; for she was what we should call a Bigot, 
yet with great good-sense. In short she was too 
good for a Court ; Misfortunes in the beginning 
of her Life had formed her Mind (naturally lively 



^ot^ic jarttjitetture 175 

and impatient) to reflexion, and a habit of piety ; 
she was always miserable, while she had the care 
of Mad. de Montespan's children ; timid and very 
cautious of making Use of that unlimited power 
she rose to afterwards for fear of trespassing on 
the King's PViendship for her; and after his death, 
not at all afraid of meeting her own. I don't 
know what to say to you with regard to Racine : 
it sounds to me as if anybody should fall upon 
Shakespear, who indeed lies infinitely more open 
to Criticism of all kinds, but I should not care to 
be the person that undertook it. If you don't like 
Athaliah, or Britannicus, there is no more to be 
said. I have done. . . . Have you seen Bishop 
Hall's Satires, called Virgidemiae, republished 
lately, they are full of spirit and poetry ; as much 
of the first, as Dr. Donne, and far more of the 
latter. They were wrote at this University, when 
he was about 23 years old, in Queen Elizabeth's 
time. . . . 

GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE 

[To Thomas Whartofi\ 

Stoke, September i8, 1754. 

Dear Sir — I rejoice to find you at last settled 
to your heart's content, and delight to hear you 
talk of giving your house some Gothic ornaments 



176 Selections? from t^t llettersf 

already. If you project anything, I hope it will 
be entirely within doors ; and don't let me (when 
I come gaping into Coleman-street) be directed 
to the Gentleman's at the ten Pinnacles, or with 
the Church-Porch at his door. I am glad you 
enter into the Spirit of Strawberry-Castle. It has 
a purity and propriety of Gothicism in it (with 
very few exceptions) that I have not seen else- 
where. The eating-room and library were not 
completed, when I was there, and I want to know 
what effect they have. My Lord Radnor's Vaga- 
ries (I see) did not keep you from doing justice 
to his situation, which far surpasses everything 
near it, and I do not know a more laughing Scene, 
than that about Twickenham and Richmond. 
Dr. Akenside (I perceive) is no Conjurer in 
Architecture, especially when he talks of the 
Ruins of Persepolis, which are no more Gothic, 
than they are Chinese. The Egyptian Style (see 
Dr. Pococke, not his discourses, but his prints) 
was apparently the Mother of the Greek ; and 
there is such a similitude between the Egyptian, 
and those Persian Ruins, as gave room to Diodo- 
rus to affirm, that the old buildings of Persia were 
certainly perform'd by Egyptian Artists. As to 
the other part of his opinion, that the Gothic 
manner is the Saracen or Moorish, he has a great 
Authority to support him, that of Sir Christopher 



^tropfie anD ^ntimop\)t 1 7 7 

Wren, and yet (I cannot help thinking) is un- 
doubtedly wrong. The Palaces in Spain, I never 
saw but in description, which gives us little or no 
idea of things ; but the Doge's Palace at Venice 
I have seen (which is in the Arabesque manner) 
and the houses of Barbary you may see in Dr. 
Shaw's book, not to mention abundance of other 
eastern Buildings in Turkey, Persia, &c., that 
we have views of, and they seem plainly to be 
corruptions of the Greek Architecture, broke into 
little parts indeed, and cover'd with little orna- 
ments, but in a taste very distinguishable from 
that we call Gothic. There is one thing that runs 
through the Moorish Buildings, that an Imitator 
would certainly have been first struck with, and 
would have tried to copy, and that is the Cupo- 
las, which cover everything. Baths, Apartments, 
and even Kitchens — yet who ever saw a Gothic 
Cupola ? It is a thing plainly of Greek original. 
I do not see anything but the slender Spires, that 
serve for steeples, which may perhaps be borrowed 
from the Saracen Minarets on their Mosques. . . . 

STROPHE AND ANTISTROPHE 

[To Thomas Wharton, from Cambridge, March 9, 1755] 

... I am not quite of your opinion with re- 
gard to Strophe and Antistrophe. Setting aside 



1 78 ^tltttion^ from ttje iletcersi 

the difficulties, methinks it has little or no effect 
upon the ear, which scarce perceives the regular 
return of Metres at so great a distance from one 
another. To make it succeed, I am persuaded 
the stanza's must not consist of above nine lines 
each at the most. Pindar has several such odes. . . » 



BAIARDI AND VOLTAIRE 

[To Richard Stonehewer, probably from Stoke] 

August 21, 1755. 

I thank you for your intelligence about Her- 
culaneum, which was the first news I received 
of it. I have since turned over Monsignor Bai- 
ardi's book, where I have learned how many 
grains of modern wheat the Roman Congius in 
the Capitol, holds, and how many thousandth 
parts of an inch the Greek foot consisted of more 
or less (for I forget which) than our own. He 
proves also by many affecting examples, that an 
Antiquary may be mistaken : that for anything 
anybody knows, this place under ground might 
be some other place, and not Herculaneum ; but 
nevertheless, that he can shew for certain that 
it was this place and no other place ; that it is 
hard to say which of the several Herculeses was 
the founder ; therefore (in the third volume) he 



Ctiangrsi in W^t 115arD 179 

promises to give us the memoirs of them all ; and 
after that, if we do not know what to think of 
the matter, he will tell us. There is a great deal 
of wit too, and satire, and verses, in the book, 
which is intended chiefly for the information of 
the French King, who will be greatly edified 
without doubt. 

I am much obliged to you also for Voltaire's 
performance; it is very unequal, as he is apt to be 
in all "but his dramas, and looks like the work of 
a man that will admire his retreat and his Lemon- 
Lake no longer than till he finds an opportun- 
ity to leave it. However, though there be many 
parts which I do not like, yet it is in several places 
excellent, and everywhere above mediocrity. . . . 



CHANGES IN THE BARD 

[To Thomas Wharton, from Stoke, August 21, 1755] 

. . . Though I allow abundance for your kind- 
ness and partiality to me, I am yet much pleased 
with the good opinion you seem to have of the 
Barci. You may alter that. Robed in the sable, &c., 
almost in your own words, thus. 

With fury pale, and pale with woe, 
Secure of fate, the Poet stood, &c. 

Though haggard^ which conveys to you the idea 



i8o ^elections? from t^t ilettrw 

of a Witch^ is indeed only a metaphor taken from 
an unreclaimed Hawk, which is called a Haggard^ 
and looks wild and farouche^ and jealous of its 
liberty. I have sent now to Stonehewer a bit more 
of the prophecy y and desire him to shew it you 
immediately : it is very rough and unpolishM at 
present. Adieu, dear Sir, I am ever 

Truly Yours 
T. G. 



She-Wolf of France with unrelenting fangs, 

That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled Mate; 

From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs 

The Scourge of Heaven. What Terrors round him wait! 

Amazement in his Van with Flight combined, 

And Sorrow's faded form and Solitude behind. 

Ant. 2. 
Victor 
Mighty Conqu'ror, mighty Lord, 

his 
Low on the funeral couch he lies; 
No no 

What pitying heart, what eye aflFord 
A tear to grace his obsequies? 
Is the sable Warrior fled ? 
Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. 

in thy noontide beam were bom 
The swarm that hover''d in thy noontide ray? 

morn 
Gone to salute the rising day 
Mirrors of Saxon truth and loyalty, 
Your helpless old expiring master view, 
They hear not. Scarce Religion dares supply 



CJange0 in '(EMt llBarD i8 

Her mutter'd Requiems and her holy Dew. 

Yet thou, proud Boy, from Pomfret's walls shalt send 

A sigh, and envy oft thy happy Grandsire's end. 

Efode 2. 

Fill high the sparkling bowl, 
The rich repast prepare. 
Reft of a crown he yet may share the feast. 
Close by the regal chair 
Fell Thirst and Famine scowl 
A smile of horror on their baffled guest. 
Heard ye the din of battle bray, 
> Lance to lance and horse to horse! 
Long years of havock urge their destined course. 
And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way. 
Ye 

Grim towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, 
With many a foul and midnight murther fed. 
Revere his consort's faith, his Father's fame. 
And spare the meek Usurper's hallow'd head. 
Above, below, the Rose of snow. 
Twined with her blushing foe we spread: 
The bristled boar in infant gore. 
Wallows beneath the thorny shade. 
Now, Brothers, bending o'er the accursed loom, 
Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom. . 

Strophe 3. 

Edward, lo! to sudden fate, 

(Weave we the woof. The thread is spim), 
Half of thy heart we consecrate 

(The web is wove. The work is done), 
thus 
Stay, oh stay, nor here forlorn 

me unbless'd. Unpitied here 
Leave your despairing Caradoc to mourn! 

track 
Li yon bright clouds that fires the western skies. 



i82 ^tltttion^ from t^t timer£f 

melt 
They sink, they vanish from my eyes. 
But ah! what solemn scenes of Heaven on Snowdon's height, 

^ glittVing 
Descending slow their golden skirts unroll! 
Visions of glory, spare my aching sight. 
Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul. 
From Cambria's thousand hills a thousand strains 
Triumphant tell aloud, another Arthur reigns. 



Antist. 3 

Girt with many a 

Touthjul Knights and Baronj bold 

Sublime their starry fronts they rear 

With dazzling helnty and horrent spear 

And gorgeous Dames, and Statesmen old, 

In bearded majesty appear. 

In the midst a Form divine, 

Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-Line; 

Her her 

A Lyon-port, an awe-commanding face, 

Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace. 

What strings symphonious tremble in the air! 

What strains of vocal transport round her play! 

Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear, 

They breath a soul to animate thy clay. 

Bright Rapture calls, and soaring, as she sings. 

Waves in the eye of Heaven her many-coloured wingt. 

Epode 3. 

The verse adorn again, 
Fierce War, and Faithful Love, 
And Truth severe by fairy-Fiction drest. 
In buskinM measures move 
Pale Grief and pleasing Pain, 
With Horroi^r, tyrant of the throbbing breast. 



J^r^ IV. of if ranee an5 &ull^ 183 

A voice as of the Cherub-Quire, 
Gales from biooming Eden bear; 
And distant Warblings lessen on my ear, 
That lost in long futurity expire. 
Fond impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud 

RaisM by thy breath has quench'd the Orb of day? 
To-morrow he repairs the golden flood, 
And warms the Nations with redoubled ray. 
Enough for me. With joy I see 
The different doom our fates assign, 
Be thine Despair, and scepter'd Care. 
To triumph and to die are mine. 
He^poke, and headlong from the mountain's height 
Deep in the roaring tide he sunk to endless night. 



HENRY IV. OF FRANCE AND SULLY 

[To Thomas Wharton^ from Cambridge, March 25, 1756] 

. . . The similitude between the Italian re- 
publics and those of ancient Greece has often 
struck me, as it does you. I do not wonder, that 
Sully's Memoirs have highly entertained you, but 
cannot agree with you in thinking him or his 
master two of the best Men in the world. The 
king was indeed one of the best natur'd Men, that 
ever lived. But it is owing only to chance, that 
his intended Marriage with Mad. d'Estrees, or 
with the Marquise de Verneuil, did not involve 
him and the kingdom in the most inextricable 
confusion ; and his design upon the Princess of 
Conde (in his old age) was worse still. As to the 



1 84 ^tltttionsi from tlie lletter^ 

Minister, his base application to Concini after 
the murther of Henry has quite ruin'd him in my 
esteem, and destroyed all the merit of that honest 
surly Pride, for which I honoured him before. 
Yet I own, that as Kings and Ministers go, they 
were both extraordinary Men. Pray look at the 
end of Birch's State Papers of Sir T. Edmonde's 
for the character of the French Court at that time, 
written by Sir George Carew. . . . 



TWO VOLUMES OF MEMOIRS 

[To Thomas Wharton, from Stoke, October 15, 1756] 

... I recommend two little French books to 
you, one called Memoires de Monsieur de la Porte. 
It has all the air of simplicity and truth, and con- 
tains some few very extraordinary facts relating 
to Anne of Austria and Cardinal Mazarin. The 
other is two small volumes, Memoires de Madame 
Staal. The facts are no great matter, but the man- 
ner and vivacity of it make it interesting. She 
was a sort of Confidente to the late Duchess of 
Maine, and imprisoned a long time in the Bastille 
on her account during the Regency. The first 
you may buy, and the latter borrow. . . . 



CliilD ^aurtcr 185 

BROWN'S ESTIMATE, ETC. 

[To William Mason, from Cambridge, April 23, 1757] 

. . . Dr. Brown's book (I hear) is much ad- 
mired in town, which I do not understand. I ex- 
pected it would be admired here ; but they affect 
not to like it, though I know they ought. What 
would you have me do ? There is one thing in it 
I applaud, which is the dissertation against trade, 
for I have always said it was the ruin of the 
nation. I have read the little wicked book about 
Evil, that settled Mr. Dodsley's conscience in 
that point, and find nothing in it but absurdity : 
we call it Soame Jenyns's, but I have a notion 
you mentioned some other name to me, though 
I have forgotten it. . . . 



CHILD MAURICE, ETC. 

fir© William Mason, from Cambridge, June, probably 1757] 

Dear Mason — I send you inclosed the breast 
and merry-thought and guts and garbage of the 
chicken, which I have been chewing so long that 
I would give the world for neck-beef or cow-heel. 
I thought, in spite o^ ennui ^ that the ten last lines 
would have escaped untouched ; for all the rest 



1 86 g>electionfif from tlie lletter^ 

that I send you I know is weakly, and you think 
so too. But you want them to be printed and done 
with ; not only Mr. Hurd, but Mr. Bonfoy too 
and Neville have seen them. Both these like the 
first Ode (that has no tout-ens emble\ the best of 
the two, and both somehow dislike the conclusion 
of the " Bard," and mutter something about an- 
tithesis and conceit in " to triumph, to die," which 
I do not comprehend, and am sure it is altered 
for the better. It was before — 

" Lo! to be free to die, are mine." 

If you like it better so, so let it be. It is more 
abrupt, and perhaps may mark the action better ; 
or it may be — 

** Lo! liberty and death are mine." 

whichever you please. But as to breaking the 
measure, it is not to be thought of; it is an inviol- 
able law of the Medes and Persians. Pray think 
a little about this conclusion, for all depends upon 
it ; the rest is of little consequence. " In bearded 
majesty," was altered to "of" only because the 
next line begins with " In the midst," &c. I un- 
derstand what you mean about " The verse adorn 
again." You may read — 

" Fierce War and faithful Love 
Resume their," &c. 

But I do not think it signifies much, for there is 



Cl^iHj ^paurice 187 

no mistaking the sense, when one attends to it. 
" That chills the throbbing," &c. I dislike as much 
as you can do. " Horror wild," I am forced to 
strike out, because of " wild dismay " in the first 
stanza. What if we read 

'* With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast." 

Why you would alter " lost in long futurity " 
I do not see, unless because you think " lost " 
and •* expire" are tautologies, or because it looks 
as if the end of the prophecy were disappointed 
by it, and that people may think that poetry in 
Britain was some time or other really to expire, 
whereas the meaning is only that it was lost to 
his ear from the immense distance. I cannot give 
up " lost," for it begins with an /. 

I wish you were here, for I am tired of writ- 
ing such stuff; and besides, I have got the old 
Scotch ballad on which Douglas was founded ; it 
is divine, and as long as from hence to Aston. 
Have you never seen it ? Aristotle's best rules 
are observed in it in a manner that shews the 
author never had heard of Aristotle. It begins in 
the fifth act of the play. You may read it two- 
thirds through without guessing what it is about ; 
and yet, when you come to the end, it is impos- 
sible not to understand the whole story. I send 
you the two first verses — 



1 88 ^electlon0 from tl^e iLettersf 

**GiI Maurice was an Earie's son, 
His fame it wexed wide. 
It was nae for his grete riches, 
Nae for his mickle pride; 
But it was for a ladie gay 
That lived on Carron's side. 

* Where shall I get a bonny boy 
That will win hose and shoon, 
That will gae to Lord Barnard's ha*, 
And bid his ladie come ? 

Ye maun rin this errand, Willie, 
And ye maun rin with pride; 
When other boys gae on their feet, 
On horseback ye sal ride,' 

* Ah na, ah na, my master dear,' " &c. &c. 

You will observe in the beginning of this thing 
I send you some alterations of a few words, partly 
for improvement, and partly to avoid repetitions 
of like words and rhymes ; I have not got rid of 
them all. The six last lines of the fifth stanza are 
new; tell me if they will do. 

I have seen your friend the Dean of S[alis- 
burjy here to-day in the theatre, and thought I 
should have sp [e] w [e] d. I am very glad you are 
to be a court chaplain nevertheless ; for I do not 
think you need be such a one, — I defy you ever 
to be. 

I have now seen your first Chorus, new-mod- 
elled, and am charmed with it. Now I am com- 
ing with my hoe. Of all things I like your idea 
of " the sober sisters, as they meet and whisper 



€\)il^ Maurice 189 

with their ebon and golden rods on the top of 
Snowdon ; " the more because it seems like a new 
mythology peculiar to the Druid superstition, and 
not borrowed of the Greeks, who have another 
quite different moon. But yet I cannot allow of 
the word " nod," though it pictures the action 
more lively than another word would do. Yet, at 
the first blush, " See the sober sisters nod," taken 
alone without regard to the sense, presents a ri- 
diculolis image, and you must leave no room for 
such ideas ; besides, a word that is not quite fa- 
miliar to us in the sense it is used should never 
form a rhyme ; it may stand in any other part of 
a line. The rest is much to my palate, except a 
verse (I have it not now before me) towards the 
end. I think it is " Float your saffron vestments 
here," because one does not at once conceive that 
" float " is " let them float ; " and besides, it is a 
repetition of the idea, as you speak of the " rust- 
ling of their silken draperies " before, and I would 
have every image varied as the rest are. I do not 
absolutely like " Hist ye all," only because it is 
the last line. These are all the faults I have to 
find ; the rest is perfect. I have written a long 
letter of poetry, which is tiresome, but I could 
not help it. . . . 



190 g>rleccion0 from tl^e tlecters; 



CARACTACUS 

[To William Mason] 

Stoke, September 28, 1757. 

Dear Mason — I have, as I desired Stone- 
hewer to tell you, read over Caractacus twice, not 
with pleasure only, but with emotion. You may 
say what you will, but the contrivance, the man- 
ners, the interests, the passions, and the expres- 
sion, go beyond the dramatic part of your Elfrlda 
many, many leagues. I even say (though you will 
think me a bad judge of this) that the world will 
like it better. I am struck with the Chorus, who 
are not there merely to sing and dance, but bear 
throughout a principal part in the action, and 
have (beside the costume, which is excellent) as 
much a character of their own as any other per- 
son. I am charmed with their priestly pride and 
obstinacy, when, after all is lost, they resolve to 
confront the Roman General, and spit in his face. 
But now I am going to tell you what touches 
me most. From the beginning the first opening 
is greatly improved. The curiosity of Didius is 
now a very natural reason for dwelling on each 
particular of the scene before him, nor is the de- 
scription at all too long. I am glad to find the 
two young men are Cartismandua*s sons ; they 



Caractacttfii 191 

interest me far more. I love people of condition. 
They were men before that nobody knew ; one 
could not make them a bow if one had met them 
at a public place. 

I always admired that interruption of the 
Druids to Evelina, " Peace, Virgin, peace," &c. ; 
and chiefly the abstract idea personified (to use 
the words of a critic), at the end of it. That of 
Caractacus — "Would save my Queen," &c., 
and still more, that, " I know it, reverend Fa- 
thers, 'tis heaven's high will," &c., to " I've done, 
begin the rites ! " This latter is exemplary for 
the expression (always the great point with me) ; 
I do not mean by expression the mere choice of 
words, but the whole dress, fashion, and arrange- 
ment of a thought. Here, in particular, it is the 
brokenness, the ungrammatical position, the total 
subversion of the period, that charms me. All that 
ushers in the incantation, from " Try we yet what 
holiness can do," I am delighted with in quite an- 
other way, for this is pure poetry, as it ought to 
be, forming the proper transition, and leading on 
the mind to that still purer poetry that follows it. 
You have somehow mistaken my meaning about 
the sober Sisters : the verb " nod " before " only," 
seemed to be a verb neuter ; now you have made 
it absolutely such, which was just my objection 
to it ; but it is easily altered, for if the accusative 



192 g)election0 from tlje iletterfi? 

case come first, there is no danger of ambiguity. 
I read 

See! their gold and ebon rod 

Where the sober Sisters nod, 

And greet in whispers sage and slow. 

Snowdon, mark! 'tis Magic's hour; 

Now the mutter'd spell hath power, 

Power to rift thy ribs of rock, 

To burst thy base with thunder's shock, 

But, &c., &c. 

Than those that dwell 
In musick's, &c. 

You will laugh at my " these's " and " those's," 
but they strike my ear better. What Mador sings 
must be the finest thing that ever was wrote ; and 
the next chorus, where they all go to sleep, must 
be finer still. 

In the beginning of the succeeding act I admire 
the chorus again, " Is it not now the hour, the 
holy hour," &c. : and their evasion of a lie, 
" Say'st thou, proud boy," &c. : and " Sleep with 
the unsunn'd silver," which is an example of a 
dramatic simile. The sudden appearance of Ca- 
ractacus, the pretended respect and admiration 
of Vellinus, and the probability of his story, the 
distrust of the Druids, and their reasoning with 
Caractacus, and particularly that, " 'Tis meet 
thou should'stj thou art a king," &c., &c. ; 
" Mark me. Prince, the time will come when 
destiny," &c., are well and happily imagined. 



Caractacufif 193 

Apropos of the last striking passage I have men- 
tioned, I am going to make a digression. 

When we treat a subject where the manners 
are almost lost in antiquity our stock of ideas 
must needs be small, and nothing betrays our 
poverty more than the returning to and harping 
frequently on one image ; it was therefore I 
thought you should omit some lines before, though 
good in themselves, about the scythed car, that 
the passage now before us might appear with 
greater lustre when it came ; and in this, I see, 
you have complied with me. But there are other 
ideas here and there still that occur too often, 
particularly about the oaks, some of which I 
would discard to make way for the rest. 

But the subjects I speak of, to compensate 
(and more than compensate) that unavoidable 
poverty, have one great advantage when they fall 
into good hands: they leave an unbounded liberty 
to pure imagination and fiction (our favourite 
provinces), where no critic can molest or anti- 
quary gainsay us. And yet (to please me) these 
fictions must have some affinity, some seeming 
connection with that little we really know of the 
character and customs of the people. For exam- 
ple, I never heard in my days that midnight and 
the moon were sisters, that they carried rods of 
ebony and gold, or met to whisper on the top 



194 g>electtonflf from t\)t iletter^ 

of a mountain ; but now, I could lay my life it is 
all true, and do not doubt it will be found so in 
some Pantheon of the Druids that is to be dis- 
covered in the library at Herculaneum. The Car 
of Destiny and Death is a very noble invention of 
the same class, and, as far as that goes, is so 
fine, that it makes me more delicate than, perhaps, 
I should be. About the close of it, Andraste, 
sailing on the wings of Fame, that snatches the 
wreaths from oblivion to hang them on her lofti- 
est amaranth, though a clean and beautiful piece 
of unknown mythology, has too Greek an air to 
give me perfect satisfaction. 

Now I proceed. The preparation to the Cho- 
rus, though so much akin to that in the former 
act, is excellent. The remarks of Evelina, and 
her suspicions of the brothers, mixed with a se- 
cret inclination to the younger of them (though, 
I think, her part throughout wants re-touching), 
yet please me much ; and the contrivance of the 
following scene much more. " Masters of wis- 
dom, no," &c., I always admired, as I do the 
rocking-stone and the distress of Elidurus. Eve- 
lina's examination of him is a well-invented 
scene, and will be, with a little pains, a very 
touching one; but the introduction of Arviragus 
is superlative. I am not sure whether those few 
lines of his short narrative, " My strength re** 



Caractacu0 195 

paired, it boots not that I tell," &c., do not please 
me as much as anything in the whole drama. 
The sullen bravery of Elidurus ; the menaces of 
the Chorus, that "Think not, Religion," &c. ; 
the trumpet of the Druids ; that " I'll follow 
him, though in my chains," &c. ; " Hast thou a 
brother, no," &c. ; the placability of the Chorus 
when they see the motives of Elidurus' obstinacy, 
give me great contentment. So do the reflections 
of the Druid on the necessity of lustration, and 
the reasons for Vellinus' easy escape j but I would 
not have him seize on a spear, nor issue hastily 
through the cavern's mouth. Why should he not 
steal away unmarked and unmissed till the hurry 
of passions in those that should have guarded him 
was a little abated ? But I chiefly admire the two 
speeches of Elidurus : — " Ah ! Vellinus, is this 
thee," &c., and " Ye do gaze on me. Fathers," 
&c. The manner in which the Chorus reply to 
him is very fine, but the image at the end wants 
a little mending. The next scene is highly mov- 
ing ; it is so very good that I must have it made 
yet better. 

Now for the last Act. I do not know what you 
would have, but to me the design and contriv- 
ance of it is at least equal to any part of the 
whole. The short-lived triumph of the Britons — 
the address of Caractacus to the Roman victims 



196 ^tltttionsi (torn tlje !letter0 

— Evelina's discovery of the ambush — the mis- 
take of the Roman fires for the rising sun — the 
death of Arviragus — the interview between 
Didius and Caractacus — his mourning over his 
dead son — his parting speech (in which you have 
made all the use of Tacitus that your plan would 
admit) — everything, in short, but that little dis- 
pute between Didius and him, " 'Tis well, and 
therefore to increase that reverence," &c., down 
to " Give me a moment " (which must be omitted, 
or put in the mouth of the Druid), I approve in 
the highest degree. If I should find any fault with 
the last Act it could only be with trifles and little 
expressions. If you make any alterations I fear it 
will never improve it, I mean as to the plan. . . . 
I reserve my nibblings and minutiae for another 
day. ... 

[To Thomas Wharton, from Cambridge, October 7, 1757] 

... I am greatly pleased with M[aso]n's 
Caractacus in its present state. The contrivance 
and arrangement of events, the manners of the 
country, the characters and passions, strike me 
wonderfully. The difficult part is now got over, 
nothing remains but to polish, and retouch a little : 
yet only the beginning of the first Chorus is done 
of the lyric part. Have you seen it ? . . . 



atn O^tie b^ ^asfon 197 



AN ODE BY MASON 

[To William Mason, from Cambridge] 

January 13, 1758. 

Dear Mason — Why you make no more of 
writing an Ode, and throwing it into the fire, than 
of buckling and unbuckling your shoe, I have 
never read Keysler's book, nor you neither, I be- 
lieve ; if you had taken that pains, I am persuaded 
you would have seen that his Celtic and his sep- 
tentrional antiquities are two things entirely dis- 
tinct. There are, indeed, some learned persons 
who have taken pains to confound what Caesar 
and Tacitus have taken pains to separate, the 
old Druidical or Celtic belief, and that of the old 
Germans, but nobody has been so learned as to 
mix the Celtic religion with that of the Goths. 
Why, Woden himself is supposed not to have 
been older than Julius Caesar ; but let him have 
lived when he pleases, it is certain that neither 
he nor his V^alhalla were heard of till many ages 
after. This is the doctrine of the Scalds, not of 
the Bards ; these are the songs of Hengist and 
Horsa, a modern new-fangled belief in comparison 
of that which you ought to possess. After all, 
I shall be sorry to have so many good verses and 
good chimaeras thrown away. Might we not be 



198 g)fUction0 from ttje Uttttts 

permitted (in that scarcity of Celtic ideas we 
labour under) to adopt some of these foreign 
whimsies, dropping however all mention of 
Woden and his Valkhyrian virgins, &c. ? To 
settle this scruple of conscience, I must refer you 
to Dr. Warburton : if this should be his opinion 
(which I doubt), then I go on to tell you (first 
premising that a dirge is always a funeral service 
sung over persons already dead), that I would 
have something striking and uncommon in the 
measures, the rhythm, and the expression of this 
Chorus ; the two former are not remarkable here, 
and the third is so little antiquated, that " murky " 
and " dank " look like two old maids of honour 
got into a circle of fleering girls and boys. Now 
for particulars. I like the first stanza; the image 
of Death in arms is very fine and gallant, but I 
banish " free-born train," and " glory and lux- 
ury" here (not the ideas, but the words), and 
"liberty and freedom's cause," and several small 
epithets throughout. I do not see how one person 
can lift the voice of another person. The imagery 
of the second stanza too is excellent. A dragon 
pecks! Why a cock-sparrow might do as much : 
in short, I am pleased with the Gothic Elysium. 
Do not think I am ignorant about either that, or 
the hell before, or the twilight. I have been there, 
and have seen it all in Mallet's Introduction to the 



an (Dtie b^ ^pasfon 199 

History of Denmark (it is in French), and many 
other places. " Now they charge," &c. looks as 
if the coursers rode upon the men. A ghost does 
not fall. These are all my little objections, but 
I have a greater. Extreme conciseness of expres- 
sion, yet pure, perspicuous, and musical, is one 
of the grand beauties of lyric poetry ; this I have 
always aimed at, and never could attain; the 
necessity of rhyming is one great obstacle to it : 
anotjjer and perhaps a stronger is, that way you 
have chosen of casting down your first ideas care- 
lessly and at large, and then clipping them here 
and there, and forming them at leisure ; this 
method, after all possible pains, will leave behind 
it in some places a laxity, a difFuseness ; the frame 
of a thought (otherwise well invented, well turned, 
and well placed) is often weakened by it. Do I 
talk nonsense, or do you understand me? I am 
persuaded what I say is true in my head, what- 
ever it may be in prose, — for I do not pretend to 
write prose. 

I am extremely pleased with your fashionable 
Ode, and have nothing to find fault there, only 
you must say " portray'st " in the first stanza ; 
and " it looks at best but skin," in the fourth, is 
not right. I have observed your orders, but I 
want to shew it everybody. Pray tell me when 
I may have the credit of doing so. I have never 



200 ^tltttionsi from ttie tlettew 

seen a prettier modernism : let it be seen while it 
is warm. You are in the road to fame ; but do 
not tell your name at first, whatever you may 
venture to do afterwards. . . . 



ELEGIES BY MASON 

[To William Mason, from Cambridge, January, 1758] 

Dear Mason — I am almost blind with a 
great cold, and should not have written to you 
to-day if you did not hurry me to send back this 
Elegy. My advices are always at your service 
to take or to refuse, therefore you should not call 
them severe. You know I do not love, much less 
pique myself, on criticism, and think even a bad 
verse as good a thing or better than the best 
observation that ever was made upon it. I like 
greatly what you have now sent me, particularly 
the spirit and sentiment of it ; the disposition of 
the whole too is natural and elegiac. As to the 
expression, I would venture to say (did you not 
forbid me) that it is sometimes too easy. The last 
line I protest against. This, you will say, is worse 
than blotting out rhymes. The descriptive part 
is excellent, yet I am sorry for the name of 
Cutthorpe. I had rather Vertumnus and Flora 
did not appear in person. The word "lopt" 



elegies b^ ^a0on 201 

sounds like a farmer, or a man of taste. " A 
mountain hoar, the savage," &c. is a very good 
line : yet I always doubt if this ungrammatical 
construction be allowable; in common speech 
it is usual, but not in writing even prose ; and I 
think Milton (though hard pressed by his short 
metre in Penseroso) yet finds a way to bring in 
his that's^ his who^s^ and his which' s. " Fair un- 
fold the wide-spread," &c. ; " fair," is weakly, 
" wide-spread " is contained in " unfold." By 
" amber mead," I understand the yellow gleam 
of a meadow covered with marsh-marigolds and 
butterflowers, — is it not so ? The two first lines 
(the second especially) I do not admire. I read, 
" Did Fancy wake not — refuse one votive 
strain " j you will ask me why ? I do not know. 
As to votive^ it is like delegated^ one of the words 
you love. I also read, " How well does Mem- 
ory," &c. — for the same no reason. " It all 
was his," &c. I like the sense, but it is not suf- 
ficiently clear. As to the versification, do not you 
perceive that you make the pause on the fourth 
syllable in almost every other line ? 

Now I desire you would neither think me 
severe, nor at all regard what I say any further 
than it coincides with your own judgment ; for 
the child deserves your partiality ; it is a healthy 
well-made boy, with an ingenuous countenance, 



202 ^tltttiona from tlie tlettrrs 

and promises to live long. I would only wash 
its face, dress it a little, make it walk upright 
and strong, and keep it from learning paw words. 

I never saw more than two volumes of Pel- 
loutier, and repent that I ever read them. He is 
an idle man of some learning, who would make 
all the world Celts whether they will or no. Locus 
est et pluribus umbris^ is a very good motto ; you 
need look no further. I cannot find the other 
passage, nor look for it with these eyes. Adieu ! 
dear Mason, I am most sincerely yours. 

You won't find me a place like Mr. Wood's. 

Elegy I. 

" Favour'd steps," useless epithet ! Write 
" choir." Read " rank'd and met." " Cull living 
garlands," &c. too verbose. You love " garlands 
which pride nor gains " : odd construction. 
" Genuine wreath — friendship twine " ; a little 
forced. " Shrink " is usually a verb neuter ; why 
not " blight " or " blast " ? " Fervid " ; read 
" fervent." " When sad reflection " ; read " till 
sad," &c. " Blest bower," " call on " ; read" call 
we." " In vain to thee " ; read " in vain to him," 
and " his " for " thy." Oh, I did not see : what 
will become of "thine " ? " Timid " read " fear- 
ful." " Discreter part " ; " honest part " just be- 
fore " explore." " Vivid," read " warmest." 



elegies? b^ spasfon 203 

There is too much of the Muse here. " The 
Muse's genuine wreath," " the Muse's laurel," 
" the Muse full oft," " the Muse shall come," 
"the Muse forbids," — five times. 

Elegy II. 

" Laurel-circled " ; " laurel-woven " sounds 
better. " Neglect the strings " is somehow 
naked : perhaps 

^ "That rules my lyre, neglect her wonted strings.'* 

Read " re-echo to my strain." " His earliest 
blooms " should be " blossoms." " Then to thy 
sight," « to the sight." Read " he pierced." 
" Modestly retire," I do not like. " Tufts " 
sounds ill. 

" To moral excellence " : a remnant of bad 
books you read at St. John's ; so is the '^ dignity 
of man." 

"Of genuine man glowing," 

a bad line. " Dupe" I do not approve. " Taste" 
too often repeated. 

"From that great Guide of Truth," 

hard and prosaic. 

Elegy III. 

"Attend the strain," " quick surprise," better 
than " sweet." " Luxuriant Fancy, pause," " ex- 
ulting leap." — Read 

"The wint'ry blast that sweeps ye to the tomb." 



204 ^electionsf from t\)t Mttttt& 

" Tho' soon," — query ? " His patient stand,'* 
better before. Read " that mercy." " Trace then 
by Reason's," — blot it out. " Dear as the sons," 
perhaps, " yet neither sons," &c. 

"They form the phalanx," &c. 
"Is it for present fame ?" 

From hence to "peasant's life," the thought 
seems not just, because the questions are fully 
as applicable to a prince who does believe the 
immortality of the soul as to one who does not ; 
and it looks as if an orthodox king had a right 
to sacrifice his myriads for his own ambition, 
because they stand a chance of going to heaven, 
and he of going to hell. 

Indeed these four stanzas may be spared, 
without hurting the sense at all. After " brave 
the torrent's roar," it goes on very well. " Go, 
wiser ye," &c. ; and the whole was before rather 
spun out and weakly. 



AGIS, DODSLEY'S MISCELLANY, ETC. 

[To Thomas Wharton] 

Cambridge, March 8, 1758. 

It is indeed for want of spirits, as you suspect, 
that my studies lie among the Cathedrals, and the 
Tombs, and the Ruins. To think, though to little 



aigt0, moty&W^ ^i&ctllan^i <^t, 205 

purpose, has been the chief amusement of my 
days ; and when I would not, or cannot think, 
I dream. At present I find myself able to write 
a Catalogue, or to read the Peerage book, or 
Miller's Gardening Dictionary, and am thankful 
that there are such employments and such authors 
in the world. Some people, who hold me cheap 
for this, are doing perhaps what is not half so 
well worth while. As to posterity, I may ask, 
(with somebody whom I have forgot) what has 
it ever done to oblige me ? 

To make a transition from myself to as poor a 
subject, the Tragedy of Agis; I cry to think that 
it should be by the author of Douglas : Why, it 
is all modern Greek; the story is an antique 
statue, painted white and red, frized, and dressed 
in a negligee made by a Yorkshire mantua- 
maker. Then here is the Miscellany (Mr. Dodsley 
has sent me the whole set gilt and lettered, I thank 
him). Why, the two last volumes are worse than 
the four first; particularly Dr. Akenside is in 
a deplorable way. What signifies Learning and 
the Antients, (Mason will say triumphantly) why 
should people read Greek to lose their imagina- 
tion, their ear, and their mother tongue ? But then 
there is Mr. Shenstone, who trusts to nature and 
simple sentiment, why does he do no better ? He 
goes hopping along his own gravel-walks, and 



2o6 ^electton0 from t^t ilettersf 

never deviates from the beaten paths for fear of 
being lost. 

1 have read Dr. Swift, and am disappointed. 
There is nothing of the negotiations that I have 
not seen better in M. de Torcy before. The 
manner is careless, and has little to distinguish 
it from common writers. I met with nothing 
to please me but the spiteful characters of the 
opposite party and its leaders. I expected much 
more secret history. 



THE RELIGION OF THE GAULS 

[To William Mason, from Cambridge, March 24, 1758] 

. . . You do not seem to discover that Mons. 
Mallet is but a very small scholar, except in the 
erudition of the Goths. There are, a propos^ two 
Dissertations on the Religion and Opinions of 
the Gauls, published in the Memoires de TAcad. 
des Belles Lettres et des Inscriptions, vol. xxiv. 
4to, one by the Abbe Fenel, in which he would 
shew that, about Tiberius' and Claudius' times the 
Druids, persecuted and dispersed by the Romans, 
probably retired into Germany, and propagated 
their doctrines there. This is to account for some 
similitude to the Gaulish notions which the re- 
ligion of Germany seems to bear, as Tacitus has 



tB^t l^eligion of t\)t ^auls? 207 

described it, whereas Julius Caesar makes them 
extremely different, who lived before this sup- 
posed dispersion of the Druids ; the other, by 
Monsieur Freret, is as to shew the reverse of all 
this, — that there was no such dispersion, no such 
similitude, and that, if Caesar and Tacitus dis- 
agree, it is because the first knew nothing but of 
those nations that bordered on the Rhine, and the 
other was acquainted with all Germany. I do not 
know whether these will furnish you with any 
new matter, but they are well enough written and 
easily read. I told you before, that, in a time of 
dearth, I would venture to borrow from the Edda 
without entering too minutely on particulars ; 
but, if I did so, I would make each image so clear, 
that it might be fully understood by itself, for 
in this obscure mythology we must not hint at 
things, as we do with the Greek fables, that every 
body is supposed to know at school. However, 
on second thoughts, I think it would be still 
better to graft any wild picturesque fable, abso- 
lutely of one's own invention, upon the Druid 
stock; I mean upon those half-dozen of old fancies 
that are known to have made their system: this 
will give you more freedom and latitude, and will 
leave no hold for the critics to fasten on. 

Pray, when did I pretend to finish, or even in- 
sert passages into other people's works ? As if it 



2o8 ^electionflf from t}^t ILettew 

were equally easy to pick holes and to mend them. 
All I can say is, that your Elegy must not end 
with the worst line in it ; it is flat, it is prose ; 
whereas that above all ought to sparkle, or at least 
to shine. If the sentiment must stand, twirl it a 
little into an apophthegm, stick a flower in it, gild 
it with a costly expression ; let it strike the fancy, 
the ear, or the heart, and I am satisfied. 

Hodges is a sad fellow ; so is Dr. Akenside, 
and Mr. Shenstone, our friends and companions. 
Your story of Garrick is a good one ; pray is it 
true, and what came of it ? Did the tragic poet 
call a guard ? It was I that hindered Mr. Brown 
from sending the pamphlet. It is nonsense, and 
that nonsense all stolen from Dr. Stukeley's book 
about Abury and Stonehenge ; yet if you will 
have it, you may. . . . 



MATERIALISM AND SHAFTESBURY 

[To Richard Stonehewer] 

Cambridge, August i8, 1758. 

I am as sorry as you seem to be, that our 
acquaintance harped so much on the subject of 
materialism, when I saw him with you in town, 
because it was plain to which side of the long- 
debated question he inclined. That we are indeed 



^atenaU0m anu ^^ntttshnt^ 209 

mechanical and dependent beings, I need no other 
proof than my own feelings ; and from the same 
feelings I learn, with equal conviction^ that we 
are not merely such : that there is a power within 
that struggles against the force and bias of that 
mechanism, commands its motion, and, by fre- 
quent practice, reduces it to that ready obedience 
which we call Habit i and all this in conformity 
to a preconceived opinion (no matter whether 
right or wrong), to that least material of all agents, 
a Thought. I have known many in his case who, 
while they thought they were conquering an old 
prejudice, did not perceive they were under the 
influence of one far more dangerous ; one that 
furnishes us with a ready apology for all our worst 
actions, and opens to us a full license for doing 
whatever we please ; and yet these very people 
were not at all the more indulgent to other men 
(as they naturally should have been) ; their indig- 
nation to such as offended them, their desire of 
revenge on anybody that hurt them was nothing 
mitigated : in short, the truth is, they wished to 
be persuaded of that opinion for the sake of its 
convenience, but were not so in their heart; and 
they would have been glad (as they ought in com- 
mon prudence) that nobody else should think the 
same, for fear of the mischief that might ensue 
to themselves. His French author I never saw, 



210 ^elections; from t\)t ILetterg 

but have read fifty in the same strain, and shall 
read no more. I can be wretched enough without 
them. They put me in mind of the Greek Sophist 
that got immortal honour by discoursing so feel- 
ingly on the miseries of our condition, that fifty 
of his audience went home and hanged them- 
selves; yet he lived himself (I suppose) many 
years after in very good plight. 

You say you cannot conceive how Lord 
Shaftesbury came to be a Philosopher in vogue ; 
I will tell you : P'irst, he was a Lord ; 2dly, he 
was as vain as any of his readers ; 3dly, men are 
very prone to believe what they do not under- 
stand ; 4thly, they will believe anything at all, 
provided they are under no obligation to believe 
it; 5thly, they love to take a new road, even when 
that road leads nowhere ; 6thly, he was reckoned 
a fine writer, and seemed always to mean more 
than he said. Would you have any more reasons ? 
An interval of about forty years has pretty well 
destroyed the charm. A dead Lord ranks but with 
Commoners : Vanity is no longer interested in the 
matter, for the new road has become an old one. 
The mode of free-thinking is like that of Ruffs 
and Farthingales, and has given place to the mode 
of not thinking at all ; once it was reckoned grace- 
ful, half to discover and half conceal the mind, 
but now we have been long accustomed to see it 



&)^tt^uion mn ^emor^ 2 1 1 

quite naked : primness and affectation of style, 
like the good breeding of Queen Anne's Court, 
has turned to hoydening and rude familiarity. 



OBSERVATION AND MEMORY 

[To Willam Pal grave] 

Stoke, September 6, 1758. 

I do not know how to make you amends, 
having neither rock, ruin, or precipice near me 
to send you ; they do not grow in the South : 
but only say the word, if you would have a com- 
pact neat box of red brick with sash windows, 
or a grotto made of flints and shell-work, or a 
walnut-tree with three mole-hills under it, stuck 
with honey-suckles round a basin of gold-fishes, 
and you shall be satisfied ; they shall come by the 
Edinburgh coach. 

In the meantime I congratulate you on your 
new acquaintance with the savage^the rude^ and 
the tremendous. Pray, tell me, is it anything like 
what you had read in your book, or seen in two- 
shilling prints? Do not you think a man may 
be the wiser (I had almost said the better) for 
going a hundred or two of miles ; and that the 
mind has more room in it than most people seem 
to think, if you will but furnish the apartments ? 



212 ^election0 from t|ie ile tter0 

I almost envy your last month, being in a very 
insipid situation myself; and desire you would 
not fail to send me some furniture for my Gothic 
apartment, which is very cold at present. It will 
be the easier task, as you have nothing to do but 
transcribe your little red books, if they are not 
rubbed out ; for I conclude you have not trusted 
everything to memory, which is ten times worse 
than a lead pencil : half a word fixed upon or 
near the spot, is worth a cartload of recollection. 
When we trust to the picture that objects draw 
of themselves on our mind, we deceive ourselves; 
without accurate and particular observation, it 
is but ill-drawn at first, the outlines are soon 
blurred, the colours every day grow fainter ; and 
at last, when we would produce it to anybody, 
we are forced to supply its defects with a few 
strokes of our own imagination. God forgive 
me, I suppose I have done so myself before now, 
and misled many a good body that put their trust 
in me. ... 

MASON'S CARACTACUS 

[To William Mason] 

Stoke, November 9, 1758. 

. . . While I am writing, your second packet 
is just arrived. I can only tell you in gross that 



^a0on'0 Caractacttfif 2 1 3 

there seem to me certain passages altered, which 
might as well have been let alone; and that I 
shall not be easily reconciled to Mador's own 
song. I must not have my fancy raised to that 
agreeable pitch of heathenism and wild magical 
enthusiasm, and then have you let me drop into 
moral philosophy and cold good sense. I remember 
you insulted me when I saw you last, and affected 
to call that which delighted my imagination non- 
sensQ, Now I insist that sense is nothing in 
poetry but according to the dress she wears, and 
the scene she appears in. If you should lead me 
into a superb Gothic building with a thousand 
clustered pillars, each of them half a mile high, 
the walls all covered with fretwork, and the win- 
dows full of red and blue saints, that had neither 
head nor tail, and I should find the Venus of 
Medici in person perked up in a long niche over 
the high altar, as naked as ever she was born, do 
you think it would raise or damp my devotions ? 
I say that Mador must be entirely a Briton, and 
that his pre-eminence among his companions 
must be shewn by superior wildness, more bar- 
baric fancy, and a more striking and deeper har- 
mony, both of words and numbers. If British 
antiquity be too narrow, this is the place for in- 
vention ; and if it be pure invention, so much 
the clearer must the expression be, and so much 



214 &tltttU>n& from tlie ILettersf 

the stronger and richer the imagery — there's for 
you now. . . . 

[To William Masofif from Cambridge, probably December l or 2, 

1758] 

Ode, p. 32. — "Whom Camber bore." I 
suppose you say " whom " because the harp is 
treated as a person ; but there is an ambiguity in 
it; and I should read" that Camber bore." There 
is a specimen of nice criticism for you ! 

I much approve the six last lines of this stanza ; 
it is a noble image, and well expressed to the 
fancy and to the ear. 

I. 2. — A rill has no tide of waters to "tumble 
down amain." I am sorry to observe this just 
in a place where I see the difficulty of rhyming. 
I object nothing to the " Symphony of ringdoves 
and poplars," but that it is an idea borrowed from 
yourself; and I would not have you seem to 
repeat your own inventions. 

I conceive the four last lines to be allegorical, 
alluding to the brutal ferocity of the natives, which 
by the power of music was softened into civility. 
It should not, therefore, be the " wolf-dog," but 
the " wolf" itself, that bays the trembling moon ; 
it is the wolf that thins the flocks, and not the 
dog, who is their guardian. 
! I. 3. — : I read " The Fairy Fancy." I like all 



^a0on's? Caractacuflf 2 1 5 

this extremely, and particularly the ample 
plumes of Inspiration, that 

"Beat on the breathless bosom of the air." 

Yet, if I were foolish, I could find fault with this 
verse, as others will do. But what I do not con- 
ceive is, how such wings as those of Inspiration 
should be mistaken for the wings of Sleep, who 
(as you yourself tell me presently) " sinks softly 
down the skies"; besides, is not "her" false 
English ? The nominative case is " she." 

II. 3. — This belongs to the second epode. 
Does the swart-star (that is, Sirius) shine from 
the north ? I believe not. But Dr. Long will tell 
you. 

[To William Mason, from London, jfanuary i8, 1759] 

... I send you in short my opinion of Carac- 
tacus, so far, I mean, as I have seen of it ; I shall 
only tell you further, that I am charmed with 
the idea you give me of your fourth Ode ; it is 
excellently introduced,and the specimen you send 
me even sublime. I am wrapped in it ; but the 
last line of the stanza falls off, and must be 
changed, " Courage was in his van," etc., for it 
is ordinary when compared with the rest ; to be 
sure, the immortality of the soul and the happi- 
ness of dying in battle are Druid doctrines; you 



2i6 ^titttioM from t^e iletter^ 

may dress them at pleasure, so they do but look 
wild and British. 

I have little to say from hence but that Cleone 
has succeeded very well at Covent Garden, and 
that people who despised it in manuscript went 
to see it, and confess — they cried so. For fear 
of crying too I did not go. Poor Smart is not 
dead, as was said, and Merope is acted for his 
benefit this week, with a new farce. The Guardian. 
Here is a very agreeable opera of Cocchi's, the 
Cyrus^ which gave me some pleasure; do you 
know I like both Whitehead's Odes in great 
measure, but nobody else does. . . . 

II. 2. — These are my favourite stanzas. I 
am satisfied, both mind and ear, and dare not 
murmur. If Mador would sing as well in the 
first chorus, I should cease to plague you. 
Only,— 

"Rise at her art's command" 

is harsh, and says no more than 

"Arise at her command," 

or 

"Are born at her command." 

II. 3. — I told you of the swart-Star before. 
At the end I read, 

*'Till Destiny prepare a shrine of purer clay." 

Afterwards read, " Resume no more thy strain." 



^aflfon'flf Caractacuflf 2 r 7 

You will say I have no notion of tout-ensembles^ 
if I do not tell you that I like the scheme of 
this ode at least as well as the execution. 

P. 2. — I liked the opening as it was origin- 
ally better than I do now, though I never 
thoroughly understood " how blank he frowns." 
And as to " black stream," it gives me the idea 
of a river of mud. I should read " dark stream," 
imagining it takes its hue only from the rocks 
an4 trees that overhang it. " These cliffs, these 
yawning," etc., comes in very well where it 
stood at first, and you have only removed it to 
another place where, by being somewhat more 
diffused, it appears weaker. You have intro- 
duced no new image in your new beginning but 
one, " utters deep wailings," which is very well : 
but as to a " trickling runlet," I never heard of 
such a thing, unless it were a runlet of brandy. 

Yet I have no objection at all to the reflec- 
tion Didius makes on the power objects of the 
sight have over the soul ; it is in its place, and 
might even be longer, but then it should be 
more choicely and more feelingly expressed. 
He must not talk of dells and streams only, but 
of something more striking, and more corre- 
sponding to the scene before him. Intellect is a 
word of science, and therefore is inferior to any 
more common word. 



21 8 ^rtfction0 from ti\t ^letters: 

p. 3. — For the same reason I reject " philo- 
sophy," and read " studious they measure, save 
when contemplation," etc., and here you omit 
two lines, relating to astronomy, for no cause 
that I discern. 

P. 4. — What is your quarrel to " shallops" ? 
I like " Go bid thine eagles soar," perhaps from 
obstinacy, for I know you have met with some 
wise gentleman who says it is a false thought, 
and informs you that these were not real eagles, 
but made of metal or wood, painted. The word 
" seers," comes over too often : here, besides, it 
sounds ill. Elidurus need not be so fierce. " Dost 
thou insult us, Roman ? " was better before. 
Sure " planM " is a nasty stiff word. 

P. 6. — It must be Caesar and Fate; the name 
of Claudius carries contempt with it. 

P. 7. — "Brother, I spurn it," — better than 
"I scorn it." "Misjudging Boy!" is weakly. 
He calls him coward because such a reproach 
was most likely to sting him. " I'll do the deed 
myself," is bolder, more resolute, more hearty, 
than the alteration. "Lead forth the saintly," 
etc., better, shorter, and more lively at first. 
What have I to do with " purple robes " and " ar- 
raignments " ? — like a trial at York assizes. 

P. 8. — " Try, if 'twill bring her deluging," 
etc., better so, only I do not like " strait 
justice " : " modest mounds " is far worse. 



^a^on'fif Caractacufl? 2 1 9 

p. 9. — " Do this and prosper, but pray thee/' 
etc. Oh ! how much superior to the cold lines 
for which you would omit them. It is not you 
but somebody else that has been busy here and 
elsewhere. " Come from their caves." I read, 
*'Are issuing from their caves. Hearest thou 
yon signal ?" and put "awful" where it was 
before. " I'll wait the closing," etc. Leave it 
as it was. " Do thou as likes thee best, betray, 
or aid me " : it is shorter and more sulky. Eli- 
durus too must not go ofF in silence ; and what 
can he say better ? 

P. 10. — I do not dislike the idea of this cere- 
mony, but the execution of it is careless and 
hasty. The reply of the semi-chorus is stolen 
from Dryden's CEdipus, which, perhaps,you never 
saw, nor I since I was a boy, at which time it 
left an impression on my fancy. Pray look at 
it. " This dread ground " breaks my teeth. " Be 
it worm, or aske, or toad " : these are things for 
fairies to make war upon but not Druids, at least 
they must not name them. An aske is something 
I never heard of. " Full five fathom underground." 
Consider, five fathom is but thirty feet; many a 
cellar lies deeper. I read, " Gender'd by the autum- 
nal moon " ; by its light I mean. " Conjoined " is a 
bad word. "Supernal art profound" is negligent. 
Indeed I do not understand the image, how the 



220 ^tltttiona from tl^e lletterfl? 

snakes in copulation should heave their egg to 
the sky ; you will say it is an old British fancy. 
I know it of old ; but then it must be made 
picturesque, and look almost as if it were true. 
P. 13. — "Befit such station.*' The verse 
wants a syllable. "Even in the breast of Mona," 
read "the heart of Mona." "Catches fresh 
grace " ; the simile is good, but not this expres- 
sion. The Tower is more majestic, more vener- 
able, not more graceful. I read, 

** He looks as doth the Tower 
After the conflict of Heaven's angry bolts; 
Its nodding walls, its shatter'd battlements, 
Frown with a dignity unmark'd before, 
Ev'n in its prime of strength." 

P. 13. — I do not desire he should return the 
Druid's salute so politely. Let him enter with 
that reflection, " This holy place," etc., and not 
stand upon ceremony. It required no alteration, 
only I hate the word "vegetate," and would 
read, 

"Tell me, Druid, 
Is it not better to be such as these 
Than be the thing I am?" 

I read, too, "Nor show a Praetor's edict," etc., 
and "pestilent glare," as they were before. Add, 
too," See to the altar's base the victims led," etc. 
And then, whether they were bulls or men, it is 
all one. I must repeat again, that the word 
"Seers" is repeated forever. 



^asfon'sf Caractacusf 221 

p. 15. — "I know it, reverend Fathers," etc. 
This speech is sacred with me, and an example 
of dramatic poetry. Touch not a hair of its head, 
as you love your honour. 

P. 16. — I had rather some of these person- 
ages, " Resignation, Peace, Revenge, Slaughter, 
Ambition," were stript of their allegorical garb. 
A little simplicity here in the expression would 
better prepare the high and fantastic strain, and 
all the unimaginable harpings that follow. I ad- 
mire all from " Eager to snatch thee," etc., down 
to the first epode of the chorus. You give these 
Miltonic stanzas up so easily that I begin to waver 
about Mador's song. If you have written it, and 
it turn out the finest thing in the world, I rejoice, 
and say no more. Let it come though it were in 
the middle of a sermon ; but if not, I do confess, 
at last, that the chorus may break off, and do 
very well without a word more. Do not be an- 
gry at the trouble I have given you ; and now 
I have found the reason why I could not be pleased 
with Mador's philosophic song. The true lyric 
style, with all its flights of fancy, ornaments, and 
heightening of expression, and harmony of sound, 
is in its nature superior to every other style ; which 
is just the cause why it could not be borne in a 
work of great length, no more than the eye could 
bear to see all this scene that we constantly gaze 



222 g)election0 from ttje iLettersf 

upon, — the verdure of the fields and woods, the 
azure of the sea and skies, turned into one daz- 
zling expanse of gems. The epic, therefore, as- 
sumed a style of graver colours, and only stuck 
on a diamond (borrowed from her sister) here and 
there, where it best became her. When we pass 
from the diction that suits this kind of writing to 
that which belongs to the former, it appears nat- 
ural, and delights us; but to pass on a sudden from 
the lyric glare to the epic solemnity (if I may be 
allowed to talk nonsense) has a very different ef- 
fect. We seem to drop from verse into mere prose, 
from light into darkness. Another thing is, the 
pauses proper to one and the other are not at all 
the same ; the ear therefore loses by the change. 
Do you think if Mingotti stopped in the middle 
of her best air, and only repeated the remaining 
verses (though the best Metastasio ever wrote), 
that they would not appear very cold to you, and 
very heavy ? 

P. 24. — " Boldly dare " is tautology. 

P. 27. — " Brigantum " : there was no such 
place. 

P. 28. — " The sacred hares." You might as 
well say " the sacred hogs." 

P. 29. — There is an affectation in so often 
using the old phrase of " or ere " for " before." 

P. 30. — " Rack " is the course of the clouds. 



^as?on'0 Caractactttf 223 

" wreck " is ruin and destruction. Which do you 
mean ? I am not yet entirely satisfied with the 
conclusion of this fine allegory. " That blest prize 
redeem'd " is flatly expressed ; and her sticking 
the pages over the arch of her bower is an idea 
a little burlesque ; besides, are we sure the whole 
is not rather too long for the place it is in, where 
all the interests of the scene stand still for it ? 
And this is still drawn out further by the lines 
you h^ve here put into the mouth of Caractacus. 
Do not mistake me ; I admire part of it, and 
approve almost all ; but consider the time and 
place. 

P. 31. — " Pensive Pilgrim." Why not ? 
There is an impropriety in " wakeful wanderer." 
I have told you my thoughts of this chorus already ; 
the whole scheme is excellent, the 2d strophe 
and antistrophe divine. Money (I know) is your 
motive, and of that I wash my hands. Fame is 
your second consideration ; of that I am not the 
dispenser, but if your own approbation (for every 
one is a little conscious of his own talents) and 
mine have any weight with you, you will write 
an ode or two every year, till you are turned of 
fifty, not for the world, but for us two only ; we 
will now and then give a little glimpse of them, 
but no copies. 

P. 37. — I do not like " maidenhood." 



224 ^flections? from t^t lletterflf 

p. 38. — Why not " smoke in vain " as be- 
fore ? The word " meek " is too often repeated. 

P. 42. — The only reason why you have al- 
tered my favourite speech is, that " surging and 
plunging," " main and domain," come too near 
each other ; but could not you correct these with- 
out spoiling all ? I read 

"Cast his broad eye upon the wild of ocean, 
And calm'd it with a glance; then, plunging deep 
His mighty arm, pluck'd from its dark domain," etc. 

Pray have done with your " piled stores and 
coral floors." 

P. 43. — " The dies of Fate," that is, " the 
dice of Fate." Find out another word. 

P. 44. — I cannot say I think this scene im- 
proved : I had no objection before, but to "harm 
a poor wretch like me " ; and what you have in- 
serted is to me inferior to what it was meant to 
replace, except p. 47, " And why this silence," 
which is very well ; the end of the scene is one 
of my favourite passages. 

P. 49. — Why scratch out, "Thou, gallant 
boy "? I do not know to what other scene you 
have transferred these rites of lustration, but 
methinks they did very well here. Arviragus's 
account of himself I always was highly pleased 
with. 

P. 51. — " Fervid" is a bad word. 



^as?on'0 Caractacusf 225 

[To William Masotif from Cambridge, March i, 1759] 

... I did not remember ever to have seen the 
joint criticism from Prior Park that you speak 
of, so little impression did it make ; nor should I 
believe now that I had ever seen it, did I not re- 
collect what a prejudice the parsons expressed to 
human sacrifice, which is quite agreeable to my 
way of thinking; since Caractacus convinced me 
of the propriety of the thing, it is certain that 
their fancies did in no sort influence me in the 
use of my tomahawk. Now you must know I do 
not much admire the chorus of the rocking-stone, 
nor yet much disapprove it; it is grave and sol- 
emn, and may pass. I insist, however, that 
" deigns " (though it be a rhyme) should be 
« deign'st," and " fills " " fill'st," and " bids " 
" bid'st." Do not blame me, but the English 
tongue. The beginning of the antistrophe is good. 
I do not like 

" meandring way 
Where Vice and Folly stray," 

nor the word " sprite." The beginning too of the 
epode is well ; but you have used the epithet 
" pale " before in a sense somewhat similar, and 
I do not love repetitions. The line 

"Or magic numbers'" 

interrupts the run of the stanza, and lets the 



226 ^elections; from clie ilettersf 

measure drop too short. There is no beauty in 
repeating " ponderous sphere." The two last 
lines are the best. 

The sense of your simile about the " distant 
thunder " is not clear, nor well expressed ; be- 
sides, it implies too strong a confession of guilt. 

The stanza you sent me for the second Ode 
is very rude ; and neither the idea nor verses 
touch me much. It is not the gout that makes 
me thus difficult. Finish but your Death-song as 
well as you imagined and begun it, and mind if 
I won't be more pleased than anybody. . . . Did 
I tell you how well I liked Whitehead's two 
Odes ? They are far better than anything he 
ever wrote. . . . 



STAINED GLASS 

[To Thomas Wharton, from London, November 28, 1759I 

... I have had an enquiry from Mr. Jonathan 
about painted glass, and have given him such in- 
formation, as I could procure. The manufacture 
at York seems to be the thing for your purpose, 
but the name of the Person I cannot learn. He 
at Worcester sells it for two shillings a pound 
(for it is sold by weight). I approve very well 
of the canopy work border on the sides of each 



^taineu <5la0sf 227 

light descending to the bottom, provided it do not 
darken the window too much, and take up so 
much of the twenty inches space, as to make 
the plain glass in the middle appear over narrow. 
But I have been more used to see the whole top 
of colourM glass (from where the arch begins to 
turn), the gloom above contributing much to the 
beauty of the clear view below. I cannot de- 
cide : the first is more Gothic and more uncom- 
mon^the latter more convenient and more cheer- 
ful. Green glass is not classical, nor ever seen 
in a real Church window, but where there is 
History painted, and there the Green is remark- 
ably bad. I propose, the rich amethyst-purple 
instead of it. The mosaic pattern can hardly 
come amiss, only do not let too much yellow 
and scarlet come together. If I could describe 
the mosaic at Mr. W[alpole*]s it would be of 
no use to you, because it is not merely made 
of squares put together, but painted in a pattern 
by Price, and shaded. It is as if little Balaustines, 
or Pomegranate-flowers, were set four together, 
and formed a lozenge. These are of a golden 
yellow with a white Pearl at the junctions, arid 
the spaces inclosed by them are scarlet, or blue. 
This repeated makes a Diaper-work, and fills the 
whole top of the window. . . . 



228 ^eUctionflf from t\)t lletcer^ 



FROISSART 

[To Thomas Wharton] 

London, Thursday, January 23, 1760. 

Dear Doctor — I am much obliged to you 
for your antique news : Froissard is a favourite 
book of mine (tho' I have not attentively read 
him, but only dip'd here and there) and it is 
strange to me that people who would give thou- 
sands for a dozen Portraits (Originals of that 
time) to furnish a gallery, should never cast an 
eye on so many moving pictures of the life, ac- 
tions, manners, and thoughts of their ancestors 
done on the spot, and in strong tho' simple col- 
ours. In the succeeding century Froissard (I find) 
was read with great satisfaction by everybody, 
that could read ; and on the same footing with 
King Arthur, Sir Tristram, and Archbishop Tur- 
pin : not because they thought him a fabulous 
Writer, but because they took them all for true 
and authentic Historians. To so little purpose 
was it in that age for a Man to be at the pains 
of writing truth ! Pray, are you come to the four 
Irish Kings, that went to school to K. Richard 
the 2d.'s Master of the Ceremonies ; and the 
Man who informed Froissard of all he had seen 
in St. Patrick's Purgatory? ... 



(D00ian 229 



OSSIAN 

[To Horace Walpole, probably from London^ before April 4, 1760] 

I am so charmed with the two specimens of 
Erse poetry, that I cannot help giving you the 
trouble to enquire a little farther about them, and 
should wish to see a few lines of the original, that 
I may form some slight idea of the language, the 
measures, and the rhythm. 

Is there anything known of the author or au- 
thors, and of what antiquity are they supposed to 
be ? Is there any more to be had of equal beauty, 
or at all approaching to it ? I have been often told 
that the Poem called Hardycanute (which I always 
admired and still admire) was the work of some- 
body that lived a few years ago. This I do not 
at all believe, though it has evidently been re- 
touched in places by some modern hand : but 
however, I am authorized by this report to ask, 
whether the two Poems in question are certainly 
antique and genuine. I make this enquiry in 
quality of an antiquary, and am not otherwise 
concerned about it : for, if I were sure that any one 
now living in Scotland had written them to divert 
himself, and laugh at the credulity of the world, 
I would undertake a journey into the Highlands 
only for the pleasure of seeing him. 



230 ^tltttioM from t^t ILettersf 



FREDERICK THE GREAT, STERNE, ETC. 

[To Thomas Wharton, from London, April 22, 1760] 

. . . The town are reading the K. of Prussia's 
poetry, (Le Philosophe sans Souci) and I have 
done, like the town. They do not seem so sick of 
it, as I am. It is all the scum of Voltaire and Lord 
Bolingbroke,the Crambe recocta o£ our worst Free- 
thinkers, toss'd up in German-French rhyme. 
Tristram Shandy is still a greater object of ad- 
miration, the Man as well as the Book. One is 
invited to dinner, where he dines, a fortnight be- 
forehand. His portrait is done by Reynolds, and 
now engraving. Dodsley gives £joo for a second 
edition, and two new volumes not yet written ; 
and to-morrow will come out two Volumes of 
Sermons by him. Your friend, Mr. Hall has 
printed two Lyric Epistles, one to my Cousin 
Shandy on his coming to Town, the other to the 
grown gentlewomen, the Misses of York : they 
seem to me to be absolute madness. These are 
the best lines in them : — 

I'll tell you a story of Elijah — 

Close by a Mob of Children stood, 

Commenting on his sober mood, &c.: 

And backed them (their opinions) like such sort of folks 

With a few stones and a few jokes: 

Till, weary of their pelting and their prattle, 



tiriie 4^Des^ to ($b0curic^ anD (^bUt3ion 231 

He ordered out his Bears to battle. 

It was delightful fun 

To see them run 

And eat up the young Cattle. 

The 7th volume of BufFon is come over : do 
you choose to have it ? 



THE ODES TO OBSCURITY AND 
OBLIVION 

* [To William Mason, from London, June 7, 1760] 

... I have sent Musaeus to Mr. Fraser, 
scratched here and there ; and with it I desired him 
to inclose a bloody satire, written against no less 
persons than you and me by name. I concluded 
at first it was Mr. Pottinger, because he is your 
friend and my humble servant; but then I thought 
he knew the world too well to call us the favourite 
minions of taste and of fashion, especially as to 
Odes, for to them his abuse is confined. So it is 
not Secretary Pottinger, but Mr. Colman, nephew 
to my Lady Bath, author of" The Connoisseur " 
a member of some of the inns of court, and a 
particular acquaintance of Mr. Garrick's. What 
have you done to him ? For I never heard his 
name before ? He makes very tolerable fun with 
me, where I understand him, which is not every- 
where, but seems more angry with you. Lest 



232 g)rlectionsi from t^t !lettei:fl( 

people should not understand the humour of the 
thing (which indeed to do they must have our 
lyricisms at their fingers' ends), he writes letters 
in Lloyd's Evening Post to tell them who and what 
it was that he meant, and says that it is like to 
produce a great combustion in the literary world ; 
so if you have any mind to combustle about it well 
and good ; for me, I am neither so literary nor 
so combustible. . . . 



OSSIAN, THE TWO ODES, TRISTRAM 
SHANDY 

\To Thomas Wharton, probably from London, June, 1760] 

... If you have seen Stonehewer he has 
probably told you of my old Scotch (or rather 
Irish) poetry. I am gone mad about them. They 
are said to be translations (literal and in prose) 
from the ^rj^Mongue, done by one Macpherson, 
a young Clergyman in the High-lands. He means 
to publish a Collection he has of these specimens 
of antiquity, if it be antiquity : but what plagues 
me is, I cannot come at any certainty on that head. 
I was so struck, so extasie with their infinite beauty, 
that I writ into Scotland to make a thousand en- 
quiries. The letters I have in return are ill-wrote, 
ill-reasoned, unsatisfactory, calculated (one would 



®tif ®tDo <^tt&i tE^timmi S>tiani>^ 233 

imagine) to deceive one, and yet not cunning 
enough to do it cleverly. In short, the whole 
external evidence would make one believe these 
fragments (for so he calls them, tho* nothing 
can be more entire) counterfeit : but the internal 
is so strong on the other side, that I am resolved 
to believe them genuine, spite of the Devil and 
the Kirk. It is impossible to convince me, that 
they were invented by the same Man, that writes 
me these letters. On the other hand it is almost 
as hard to suppose, if they are original, that he 
should be able to translate them so admirably. 
What can one do ? Since Stonehewer went, I have 
received another of a very different and inferior 
kind (being merely descriptive) much more mod- 
ern than the former (he says) yet very old too ; 
this too in its way is extremely fine. In short this 
Man is the very Demon of poetry, or he has 
lighted on a treasure hid for ages. The Welsh 
Poets are also coming to light : I have seen a Dis- 
course in MS. about them (by one Mr. Evans, 
a Clergyman) with specimens of their writings. 
This is in Latin, and though it don't approach 
the other, there are fine scraps among it. 

You will think I am grown mighty poetical 
of a sudden ; you would think so still more, if 
you knew, there was a Satire printed against 
me and Mason jointly. It is call'd Two Odes : the 



234 S^electiouflf from ttie lletter^ 

one is inscribed to Obscurity (that is me) the 
other to Oblivion. It tells me what I never heard 
before, for (speaking of himself) the Author says, 
tho' he has, 

**Nor the Pride, nor Self-Opinion, 
That possess the happy Pair, 
Each of Taste the fav'rite Minion, 
Prancing thro' the desert air: 
Yet shall he mount, with classic housings grac'd, 
By help mechanic of equestrian block; 
And all unheedful of the Critic's mock 
Spur his light Courser o'er the bounds of Taste.** 

The writer is a Mr. Coleman, who published 
the Connoisseur^ nephew to the late Lady Bath, 
and a Friend of Garrick's. I believe his Odes sell 
no more than mine did, for I saw a heap of them 
lie in a Bookseller's window, who recommended 
them to me as a very pretty thing. 

If I did not mention Tristram to you, it was 
because I thought I had done so before. There is 
much good fun in it, and humour sometimes hit 
and sometimes mist. I agree with your opinion 
of it, and shall see the two future volumes with 
pleasure. Have you read his Sermons (with his 
own comic figure at the head of them) ? They 
are in the style, I think, most proper for the 
pulpit, and shew a very strong imagination and 
a sensible heart : but you see him often tottering 
on the verge of laughter, and ready to throw 
his periwig in the face of his audience. . . . 



2E>'3ilembm anu (Banmt 235 

D'ALEMBERT AND OSSIAN 

[To Richard Stonehewer, from Londottt June 29, 1760] 

I too was reading M. D'Alembert, and (like 
you) am totally disappointed in his Elements. I 
could only taste a little of the first course : it was 
dry as a stick, hard as a stone, and cold as a cu- 
cumber. But then the letter to Rousseau is like 
himself; and the "Discourses on Elocution," and 
on the "Liberty of Music,*' are divine. He has 
added to his translations from Tacitus ; and (what 
is remarkable) though that author's manner more 
nearly resembles the best French writers of the 
present age, than anything, he totally fails in the 
attempt. Is it his fault, or that of the language ? 

I have received another Scotch packet with 
a third specimen, inferior in kind (because it is 
merely description), but yet full of nature and 
noble wild imagination. Five Bards pass the night 
at the Castleof a Chief (himself a principal Bard); 
each goes out in his turn to observe the face of 
things, and returns with an extempore picture 
of the changes he has seen ; it is an October night 
(the harvest month of the Highlands). This is 
the whole plan ; yet there is a contrivance, and 
a preparation of ideas, that you would not ex- 
pect. The oddest thing is, that every one of them 



236 g>electionsf from t|)e hmtta 

sees Ghosts (more or less). The idea, that struck 
and surprised me most, is the following. One of 
them (describing a storm of wind and rain) says 

" Ghosts ride on the tempest to-night : 
Sweet is their voice between the gusts of wind; 
Their songs are of other worlds / " 

Did you never observe {while rocking winds are 
piping loud) that pause, as the gust is recollecting 
itself, and rising upon the ear in a shrill and 
plaintive note, like the swell of an iEolian harp ? 
I do assure you there is nothing in the world so 
like the voice of a spirit. Thomson had an ear 
sometimes : he was not deaf to this ; and has 
described it gloriously, but given it another dif- 
ferent turn, and of more horror. I cannot repeat 
the lines: it is in his "Winter." There is another 
very fine picture in one of them. It describes the 
breaking of the clouds after the storm, before it 
is settled into a calm, and when the moon is seen 
by short intervals. 

"The waves are tumbling on the lake, 
And lash the rocky sides. 
The boat is brim-full in the cove, 
The oars on the rocking tide. 
Sad sits a maid beneath a cliff. 
And eyes the rolling stream: 
Her lover promised to come, 

She saw his boat (when it was evening) on the lake; 
Are these his groans in the gale ? 
Is this his broken boat on the shore ? " 



(j^sf^tan 237 



OSSIAN, ETC. 

[To William Mason, from Cambridge, August 7, 1760] 

. . . The Erse Fragments have been published 
five weeks ago in Scotland, though I had them 
not (by a mistake) till last week. As you tell me 
new things do not soon reach you at Aston, I in- 
close what I can ; the rest shall follow when you 
tell me whether you have not got it already. I 
send the two which I had before, for Mr. Wood, 
because he has not the affectation of not admirmg. 
I continue to think them genuine, though my rea- 
sons for believing the contrary are rather stronger 
than ever : but I will have them antique, for I 
never knew a Scotchman of my own time that 
could read, much less write, poetry ; and such 
poetry too ! I have one (from Mr. Macpherson) 
which he has not printed : it is mere description, 
but excellent, too, in its kind. If you are good, 
and will learn to admire, I will transcribe it. 
Pray send to Sheffield for the last Monthly Re- 
view : there is a deal of stuff about us and Mr. 
Colman. It says one of us, at least, has always 
borne his faculties meekly. I leave you to guess 
which that is : I think I know. You oaf, you 
must be meek, must you ? And see what you 
get by it ! . . . 



238 g)electionsf from ttie llectetflf 

A Note. — Having made many enquiries 
about the authenticity of these Fragments, I have 
got a letter from Mr. David Hume, the historian, 
vfc'hich is more satisfactory than anything I have 
yet met with on that subject : he says, — 

" Certain it is that these poems are in every- 
body's mouth in the Highlands — have been 
handed down from father to son — and are of 
an age beyond all memory and tradition. Adam 
Smith, the celebrated Professor in Glasgow, told 
me that the piper of the Argyleshire militia re- 
peated to him all those which Mr. Macpherson 
has translated, and many more of equal beauty. 
Major Mackay (Lord Rae's brother) told me 
that he remembers them perfectly well ; as like- 
wise did the Laird of Macfarline (the greatest 
antiquarian we have in this country), and who 
insists strongly on the historical truth, as well 
as the poetical beauty, of these productions. I 
could add the Laird and Lady Macleod, with 
many more that live in different parts of the 
Highlands, very remote from each other, and 
could only be acquainted with what had become 
(in a manner) national works. There is a country- 
surgeon in Lochaber, who has by heart the en- 
tire epic poem mentioned by Mr. Macpherson 
in his Preface, and, as he is old, is perhaps the 
only person living that knows it all, and has 



(j^flfflfian, ^ot^it ^ttUttttntt 239 

never committed it to writing. We are in the 
more haste to recover a monument which will 
certainly be regarded as a curiosity in the repub- 
lic of letters. We have therefore set about a sub- 
scription of a guinea or two gumeas a-piece in 
order to enable Mr. Macpherson to undertake a 
mission into the Highlands to recover this poem 
and other fragments of antiquity." 

I forgot to mention to you that the names of 
Fingjl, Ossian, Oscar, &c., are still given in the 
Highlands to large mastiffs, as we give to ours 
the names of Caesar, Pompey, Hector, &c. 

\To Dr. Clarke, from Cambridge, August 12, 1760] 

. . . Have you seen the Erse Fragments since 
they were printed ? I am more puzzled than ever 
about their antiquity, though I still incline (against 
everybody's opinion) to believe them old. Those 
ypu have already seen are the best ; though there 
are some others that are excellent too. 



OSSIAN, GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE 

[To Horace Walpole, from Cambridge, September 2, 1760] 

. . . What do you think of the Erse Poems 
now they are come out ? I suppose your sus- 
picions are augmented : yet (upon some further 



240 g>rtection£f from t^ie tlettersf 

inquiries I have made) Mr. David Hume (the 
historian) writes word that "their authenticity 
is beyond all question ; that Adam Smith, the 
celebrated Professor at Glasgow, has assured 
him (who doubted too) that he had heard the 
Piper of the Argyleshire militia repeat all these 
and many more of equal beauty. That Major 
Mackay, the Laird and Lady of Macleod, and 
the Laird of Macfarline, the greatest antiquarian 
in all their country, and others, who live in the 
Highlands very remote from each other, remem- 
ber them perfectly well, and could not be ac- 
quainted with them if they were not spread into 
every one's mouth there, and become in a man- 
ner national works." This is certainly the only 
proof, that works preserved merely by tradition, 
and not in manuscript, will admit of. . . . 

I beg leave to differ as to the era of Gothic 
perfection. There is nothing finer than the nave 
of York Minster (in a great and simple style), 
or than the choir of the same church (in the rich 
and filigraine workmanship). Both these are of 
Edward the Third's reign, the first in the begin- 
ning, and the latter in the end of it. The Lady 
Chapel (now Trinity Church) at Ely, and the 
lantern tower in the same Cathedral, are noble 
works of the same time. I mention these as great 
things ; but if we must take our idea from little 



^aflfon'0 Cles^ on Han^ Coijentr^ 241 

ones, the Chapel of Bishop West (also at Ely), 
who died in 1533, ^4 Henry VIII. surpasses 
all other things of the kind. 

[To Thomas Wharton, from London, October zx, 1760] 

... There is a second edition of the Scotch 
Fragments, yet very few admire them, and al- 
most all take them for fictions. I have a letter 
from D. Hume, the Historian, that asserts them 
to b^ genuine, and cites the names of several 
people (that know both languages) who have 
heard them current in the mouths of Pipers and 
other illiterate persons in various and distant 
parts of the Highlands. There is a subscription 
for Mr. Macpherson, which will enable him to 
undertake a mission among the Mountaineers, 
and pick up all the scattered remnants of old 
poetry. He is certainly an admirable Judge ; if 
his learned Friends do not pervert or over-rule 
his taste. 

MASON'S ELEGY ON LADY COVENTRY 

\To William Mason] 

London, at Mr. Jauncey's, not Jenour's, 
December lo, 1760. 

Dear Mason — It is not good to give copies 
of a thing before you have given it the last hand. 



242 ^elmioixflf from tf^t llettertf 

If you would send it to Lord H[oldernesse] you 
might have spared that to Lady M. C. ; they have 
both shew^ed it to particular friends, and so it is 
half published before it is finished. I begin again 
from the beginning : — 

" Ah, mark,*' is rather languid. I would read 
« Heard ye.'' 

V. 3. I read, " and now with rising knell," 
to avoid two " the's." 

V. 10. I read, "since now that bloom," 
&c. 

V. II, 12, are altered for the better, and so 
are the following ; but for " liquid lightning," 
Lord J. Cavendish says there is a dram which 
goes by that name ; and T. G. adds, that the 
words are stolen from a sonnet of the late Prince 
of Wales. What if we read " liquid radiance," 
and change the word " radiant " soon after. 

V. 18. Read, "that o'er her form," &c. 

V. 23. " Cease, cease, luxuriant muse." 
Though mended, it is still weakly. I do not 
much care for any muse at all here. 

V. 26. " Mould'ring " is better than " clay- 
cold " ; somewhat else might be better perhaps 
than either. 

V. 35. " Whirl you in her wild career." This 
image does not come in so well here between 
two real happinesses. The word " lead " before 



^afi?on'0 €lt%^ on JLau^ Cobentr^ 243 

it, as there is no epithet left to " purple," is a 
little faint. 

"Of her choicest stores an ampler share," 
seems to me prosaic. 

" Zenith-height " is harsh to the ear and too 
scientific. 

I take it the interrogation point comes after 
" fresh delight " ; and there the sense ends. If 
so, the question is too long in asking, and leaves 
a soft of obscurity. 

V. 46. I understand, but cannot read, this 
line. Does " tho' soon " belong to " lead her 
hence," or to " the steps were slow " ? I take it 
to the latter; and if so, it is hardly grammar;, 
if to the former, the end of the line appears very 
naked without it. 

V. 55. " Rouse, then — his voice pursue." I 
do not like this broken line. 

V. 74. " Firm as the sons," that is, "as firmly 
as." The adjective used for the adverb here gives 
it some obscurity, and has the appearance of a 
contradiction. 

V. 76. A less metaphorical line would become 
this place better. 

V. 80. This, though a good line, would be 
better too if it were more simple, for the same 
figure is amplified in the following stanza, and 
there is no occasion for anticipating it here. 



244 ^rlectionsf from t\)t ^ttm^ 

V. 85. " And why ? " I do not understand. 
You mean, I imagine, that the warrior must not 
expect to establish his fame as a hero while he 
is yet alive ; but how does " living fame " signify 
this ? The construction too, is not good ; if you 
mean, with regard to Fame, while he yet lives. 
Fate denies him that. The next line is a bold 
expression of Shakespeare. The third, " ere from 
her trump — heaven breathed," is not good. 

V. 89. " Is it the grasp ? " You will call me 
a coxcomb if I remind you, that this stanza in 
the turn of it is too like a stanza of " another 
body's." 

V. 98. " Truth ne*er can sanctify," is an in- 
different line. Both Mr. Brown and I have some 
doubt about the justness of this sentiment. A 
kingdom is purchased, we think, too dear with 
the life of any man ; and this no less if there 
" be a life hereafter " than if there be none. 

V. 102. We say the juice of the grape "man- 
tles," but not the grape. 

V. 107. " By earth's poor pittance" ; will not 
do ; the end is very well, but the whole is rather 
too long, and I would wish it reduced a little 
in the latter part. . . . 



Ila Jlioutjelle fi}tlom 245 

LA NOUVELLE HfiLOlSE, ETC. 

[To William Masons from London, January 22, 1761] 

I cannot pity you ; au contraire^ I wish I had 
been at Aston when I was foolish enough to go 
through the six volumes of the Nouvelle Heloise. 
All that I can say for myself is, that I was con- 
fined at home for three weeks by a severe cold, 
and ^had nothing better to do. There is no one 
event in it that might not happen any day of the 
week (separately taken), in any private family : 
yet these events are so put together that the 
series of them are more absurd and more im^ 
probable than Amadis de Gaul. The dramatis per- 
sona (as the author says) are all of them good 
characters ; I am sorry to hear it, for had they 
been all hanged at the end of the third volume 
nobody (I believe) would have cared. In short, 
I went on and on in hopes of finding some won- 
derful denouement that would set all right, and 
bring something like nature and interest out of 
absurdity and insipidity ; no such thing, it grows 
worse and worse, and (if it be Rousseau, which 
is not doubted) is the strongest instance I ever 
saw that a very extraordinary man may entirely 
mistake his own talents. By the motto and pre- 
face it appears to be his own story, or something 
similar to it. 



246 feelectionsf from the Uttttts 

The Opera House is crowded this year like 
any ordinary theatre. Elisi is finer than anything 
that has been here in your memory, yet, as I 
suspect, has been finer than he is. He appears 
to be near forty, a little pot-bellied and thick- 
shouldered, otherwise no bad figure -, his action 
proper, and not ungraceful. We have heard no- 
thing, since I remember operas, but eternal pass- 
ages, divisions, and flights of execution ; of these 
he has absolutely none, whether merely from 
judgment, or a little from age, I will not affirm. 
His point is expression, and to that all the graces 
and ornaments he inserts (which are few and 
short), are evidently directed. He goes higher 
(they say) than Farinelli, but then this celestial 
note you do not hear above once in a whole 
opera, and he falls from this altitude at once to 
the mellowest, softest, strongest tones (about the 
middle of his compass) that can be heard. The 
Mattel (I assure you) is much improved by his 
example, and by her great success this winter. 
But then the Burlettas and the Paganina. I have 
not been so pleased with anything these many 
years ; she too is fat and about forty, yet hand- 
some withal, and has a face that speaks the lan- 
guage of all nations. She has not the invention, 
the fire, and the variety of action, that the Spi- 
letta had ; yet she is light, agile, ever in motion. 



€Jotl|k 2E)e0ign 247 

and above all graceful ; but then her voice, her 
ear, her taste in singing : Good God ! — as Mr. 
Richardson the painter says. Pray ask my Lord, 
for I think I have seen him there once or twice, 
as much pleased as I was. 

I have long thought of reading Jeremy Tay- 
lor, for I am persuaded that chopping logic in 
the pulpit, as our divines have done ever since 
the Revolution, is not the thing; but that im- 
agination and warmth of expression are in their 
place there as much as on the stage, moderated 
however, and chastised a little by the purity and 
severity of religion. . . . 



GOTHIC DESIGN 

[To Thomas Wharton^ from London^ September 8, 1761] 

Dear Doctor — I am just come to Town, 
where I shall stay six weeks or more, and (if 
you will send your dimensions) will look out for 
papers at the shops. I own I never yet saw any 
Gothic papers to my fancy. There is one fault, 
that is in the nature of the thing, and cannot be 
avoided. The great beauty of all Gothic designs 
is the variety of perspectives they occasion. This 
a Painter may represent on the walls of a room in 
some measure ; but not a Designer of Papers, 



248 g>election0 from t\)t ^ttttti 

where, what is represented on one breadth, must 
be exactly repeated on another, both in the light 
and shade, and in the dimensions. This we can- 
not help ; but they do not even do what they 
might : they neglect Hollar, to copy Mr. Half- 
penny's architecture, so that all they do is more 
like a goose-pie than a cathedral. You seem to 
suppose, that they do Gothic papers in colours, 
but I never saw any but such as were to look 
like Stucco : nor indeed do I conceive that they 
could have any effect or meaning. Lastly, I never 
saw anything of gilding, such as you mention, on 
paper, but we shall see. Only pray leave as little 
to my judgment as possible. . . . 



FINGAL 

[To Thomas Wharton^ from Cambridge, January, 1762] 

. . . The Heloise cruelly disappointed me, but 
it has its partisans, among which are Mason and 
Mr. Hurd. For me, I admire nothing but Fin- 
gal (I conclude you have read it : if not Stone- 
hewer can lend it to you), yet I remain still in 
doubt about the authenticity of those poems, 
though inclining rather to believe them genuine 
in spite of the World, Whether they are the in- 
ventions of antiquity, or of a modern Scotchman, 



Mtittetieati'e; Mlorfe^ 249 

either case is to me alike unaccountable. Je 
m'y pers. . . . 



WHITEHEAD'S WORKS, ETC. 

[To William Mason, from Cambridge, March 17, 1762] 

The laureate has honoured me (as a friend of 
yours, for I know no other reason) with his new 
play and his " Charge to the Poets" : the first very 
middling ; the second I am pleased with, chiefly 
with the sense, and sometimes with the verse and 
expression ; and yet the best thing he ever wrote 
was that " Elegy against Friendship " you once 
shewed me, where the sense was detestable ; so 
that you see it is not at all necessary a poet 
should be a good sort of man — no,not evenin his 
writings. Bob Lloyd has published his works in 
a just quarto volume, containing, among other 
things, a Latin translation of my Elegy ; an epis- 
tle in which is a very serious compliment to 
me by name, particularly on my Pindaric accom- 
plishments ; and the very two odes you saw be- 
fore, in which we were abused, and a note to say 
they were written in concert with his friend Mr. 
Colman ; so little value have poets for them- 
selves, especially when they would make up a 
just volume. Mr. Delap is here, and has brought 



250 ^tltttioM from t^e !letter0 

his cub to Trinity. He has picked up again 
purely since his misfortune, and is fat and well, 
all but a few bowels. He says Mrs. Pritchard 
spoilt his Hecuba with sobbing so much, and 
that she was really so moved that she fell in fits 
behind the scenes. I much like Dr. Lowth*s 
Grammar ; it is concise, clear, and elegant. He 
has selected his solecisms from all the best writ- 
ers of our tongue. I hear Mr. Hurd is seriously 
writing against Fingal, by the instigation of the 
devil and the bishop. Can it be true ? I have 
exhausted all my literary news, and I have no 
other, . . . 



MASON'S ELEGY ON LADY COVENTRY 

\To William Mason, from Cambridge, December 21, 1762] 

. . . We have received your poetical pack- 
et and delivered them to the several parties. 
The sentiments we do not remark, as we can 
find nothing within ourselves congenial to them : 
for the expression, we hint (but in a low, timid 
voice) that there is a want of strength and spirit ; 
in short, they are nothing like the choruses in 

Elfrida^ only the lines that relate to Lady C 's 

beauty have made a deep impression upon us ; 
we get them by heart and apply them to our 



tiriie Cliapel of ^u ^tpnlt^tti ^orb 251 

sempstresses and bedmakers. This is (I think) the 
sum and substance of our reflections here ; only 
Mrs. Rutherford observes that there is great 
delicacy and tenderness in the manner of treat- 
ing so frail a character as that of Lady C , 

and that you have found a way to reconcile con- 
tempt and compassion : these might not be her 
words, but this was the sense of them ; I don*t 
believe she had it from the doctor. . . . 



THE CHAPEL OF ST. SEPULCHRE, YORK 

[To James Brown] 

Aston, January 15, 1763. 

Dear Sir — I send you with this a drawing 
of the ruin you were so much pleased with when 
you saw it at York. I take it certainly to have 
been the chapel of St. Sepulchre, founded by 
Archbishop Roger, of which Dugdale has given 
us the original charta fundationis ; but, as this 
opinion seems to contradict the opinion of Torre, 
and of Drake too, who follows him, it is neces- 
sary to produce authentic authority in proof of 
my assertion. These two learned antiquaries 
suppose that the chapel in question joined to 
the minster. Thus Torre : " Roger (Archbishop) 
having built against the great church a chapel." 



252 ^electioitfif from tbe fletters? 

And Drake : " Roger was buried in the cathe- 
dral, near the door of St. Sepulchre's chapel, 
which he himself had founded." — Vide Drake's 
Ebor.^ p. 478, p. 421. From these accounts we 
should be led to conclude that this chapel was 
as much and as close an appendage to the min- 
ster as the chapter-house is ; but the original 
records, on which they found this opinion, may 
I think be construed very differently. 

Archbishop Roger himself, in his chartafunda- 
tionis^ describes its situation thus : — " capellam 
quam juxta majorem ecclesiam extruximus." 
" Juxta " is surely " near" only, not " adjoin- 
ing " ; and this ruin is near enough. In the ex- 
tract of this archbishop's life, from an ancient 
MS. which Dugdale also gives us, we find these; 
words, " Condidit etiam Capellam Sancti Sepul- 
chri ad januam ipsius Palatii ex parte boreali 
juxta eccl'am S. Petri." The ruin in question 
might very probably be connected with the pal- 
ace gate by a cloister, of which on one side there 
are a string of arches remaining ; and on the out- 
side of the minster, over the little gate next the 
tomb, there are also vestiges of the roof of a 
cloister, which I imagine went aside the palace 
gateway, and connected the three buildings ; vide 
plan. But between this little gate and the palace 
gate (which still remains) it is very evident there 



tB^t €\)nptl of ^u &epulcl)re, ^orfe 253 

was no room for anything but a cloister, for I do 
not think they are twenty yards asunder. 

The last and only further account I can find 
of the situation is from the same Life, where it 
is said the canons of St. Peter, "graviter mur- 
murabant super situ dictae capellae eo quod nimis 
adhaesit matrici ecclesiae." 

This I think need not be translated literally; 
the word '' nimis " leads one to a metaphorical 
sense. The priests of St. Sepulchre were too 
near neighbours to St. Peter's canons, and were 
troublesome to them ; accordingly we find the 
archbishop, to quiet matters, ordered that the 
saint of his chapel should make them a recom- 
pense, which is in this extract stated. 

To these arguments I would add, that Arch- 
bishop Roger's donation was very great (as we 
find in Drake) to this chapel ; and from the num- 
ber of persons maintained in its service, I ques- 
tion not but there was a large convent built 
round it, of which there are plainly the founda- 
tions still to be seen ; and what puts the matter 
out of all doubt that this building was separate 
and entire, though indeed near to the minster, 
is the following fact, viz. that the tithes of the 
chapel and chapel itself were sold to one Webster, 
anno 42 Elizabeth : " Capella vocat. St. Sepul- 
cre's Chapell prope Eccles. Cath. Ebor. cum 



254 ^tltttion^ from t\)t ilettersf 

decimis ejusdem. W. Webster. Ap. 4, anno 4 [2] 
Eliz." — Rolls. Chap. Thus you see the " juxta " 
and "prope " are clearly on my side ; the " nimis 
adhaesit " is equivocal. I conclude with a rude 
draught of the platform according to my idea, 
but without any mensuration, and merely to ex- 
plain what has been said. I am with the greatest 
respect and deference to your sagacity, yours, 
&c. &c. &c. 

P, S, — I ought to mention to you, that in 




XE^t Cljapel of ^u g^epulcl^re^ gorfe 255 

the transept (I think you call it) of the church, 
namely, at B, there is at the top over the large 
pillars, a range of stonework like the windows 
in the ruin, viz. three pointed arches under a 
circular one, but of a clumsy proportion. This 
part I think you said was the oldest in the min- 
ster. Johnny Ludlam found this out. Perhaps 
it contradicts all I have been saying, and proves 
the building much older than Archbishop Roger. 

[To William Mason, from Cambridge, February 8, 1763] 

I am obliged to you for your drawing, and very 
learned dissertation annexed. You have made out 
your point with a great degree of probability (for 
though the " nimis adhaesit " might startle one, 
yet the sale of the tithes and chapel to Webster 
seems to set all right again), and I do believe the 
building in question was the chapel of St. Sepul- 
chre ; but then that the ruin now standing was the 
individual chapel,as erected by Archbishop Roger, 
I can by no means think. I found myself merely 
on the style and taste of architecture. The vaults 
under the choir are still in being, and were un- 
doubtedly built by this very archbishop. They 
are truly Saxon, only that the arches are pointed, 
though very obtusely. It is the south transept (not 
the north) that is the oldest part of the minster 
now above ground. It is said to have been begun 



256 ^eUctiousf from ttie JLttttt^ 

by Geoffrey Plantagenet, who died about thirty 
years after Roger, and left it unfinished. His suc- 
cessor, Walter Grey, completed it ; so we do not 
exactly know to which of these two prelates we 
are to ascribe any certain part of it. Grey lived 
a long time, and was archbishop from 12 16 to 
1255 (39"™*' Hen. HI.); and in this reign it was 
that the beauty of the Gothic architecture began 
to appear. The chapter-house is in all probability 
his work, and (I should suppose) built in his latter 
days, whereas what he did of the south transept 
might be performed soon after his accession. It is 
in the second order of this building that the round 
arches appear, including a row of pointed ones 
(which you mention, and which I also observed), 
similar to those in St. Sepulchre's Chapel, though 
far inferior in the proportions and neatness of work- 
manship. The same thing is repeated in the north 
transept, but this is only an imitation of the other, 
done for the sake of regularity, for this part of 
the building is no older than Archbishop Romaine, 
who came to the see in 1285, and died 1296. 

All the buildings of Henry the Second's time 
(under whom Roger lived, and died, 1181) are 
of a clumsy and heavy proportion, with a few rude 
and awkward ornaments ; and this style continues 
to the beginning of Henry the Third's reign, 
though with a little improvement, as in the nave 



£paflfon^ (!^00ian 257 

of Fountains Abbey, &c. Then all at once come 
in the tall piqued arches, the light clustered col- 
umns, the capital of curling foliage, the fretted 
tabernacles and vaultings, and a profusion of stat- 
ues, &c., that constitute the good Gothic style, 
together with decreasing and flying buttresses and 
pinnacles on the outside. Nor must you conclude 
anything from Roger's own tomb, which has, I 
remember, a wide surbased arch with scalloped 
ornaijients, &c. ; for this can be no older than the 
nave itself, which was built by Archbishop Melton 
after the year 13 15, one hundred and thirty years 
after our Roger's death. . . . 



MASON, OSSIAN, ETC. 

[To James Brown, from Cambridge] 

February 17, 1763. 

You will make my best acknowledgments to 
Mr. Howe, who not content to rank me in the 
number of his friends, is so polite as to make ex- 
cuses for having done me that honour. 

I was not horn so far from the sun as to be ig- 
norant of Count Algarotti's name and reputation; 
nor am I so far advanced in years or in philosophy, 
as not to feel the warmth of his approbation. The 
Odes in question, as their motto shews, were 



258 ^tltttions from tlie tLetterfl? 

meant to be vocal to the intelligent alone. How few 
they were in my own country, Mr. Howe can 
testify ; and yet my ambition was terminated by 
that small circle. I have good reason to be proud, 
if my voice has reached the ear and apprehension 
of a stranger distinguished as one of the best 
judges in Europe. 

I am equally pleased with the just applause he 
bestows on Mr. Mason, and particularly on his 
Caractacus^ which is the work of a Man : whereas 
the Elfrida is only that of a boy, a promising boy 
indeed, and of no common genius : yet this is the 
popular performance with us, and the other little 
known in comparison. 

Neither Count Algarotti, nor Mr. Howe (I be- 
lieve) have heard of Ossian^ the Son of Fingal. If 
Mr. Howe were not upon the wing, and on his 
way homewards, I would send it to him in Italy. 
He would there see, that Imagination dwelt many 
hundred years ago in all her pomp on the cold and 
barren mountains of Scotland. The truth (I be- 
lieve) is that without any respect of climates she 
reigns in all the nascent societies of men, where 
the necessities of life force every one to think and 
act much for himself. Adieu ! 



(femilr 259 

feMILE 

[To Thomas Wharton, from Cambridge, August 5, 1763] 

... I doubt you have not read Rousseau's 
Jimile; everybody that has children, should read 
it more than once, for though it abounds with 
his usual glorious absurdity, though his general 
scheme of education be an impracticable chi- 
mera ^ yet there are a thousand lights struck out, 
a thousand important truths better expressed than 
ever they were before, that may be of service to 
the wisest man. Particularly I think he has ob- 
served children with more attention and knows 
their meaning and the working of their little pas- 
sions better than any other writer. As to his re- 
ligious discussions, which have alarmed the world, 
and engaged their thoughts more than any other 
part of his book, I set them all at nought, and 
wish they had been omitted. . . . 



THE ARTS IN ENGLAND AND ITALY 

[To Count Algarotti] 

Cambridge, September 9, 1763. 

Sir — I received some time since the unex- 
pected honour of a Letter from you, and the 



26o ^tltttiona from ttie fleeter^ 

promise of a pleasure, which, till of late I had not 
the opportunity of enjoying. Forgive me if I 
make my acknowledgments in my native tongue, 
as I see it is perfectly familiar to you, and I 
(though not unacquainted with the writings of 
Italy) should from disuse speak its language with 
an ill grace, and with still more constraint to 
one, who possesses it in all its strength and pur- 

I see with great satisfaction your efforts to 
re-unite the congenial arts of poetry, music, and 
the dance, which with the assistance of painting 
and architecture, regulated by taste, and supported 
by magnificence and power, might form the 
noblest scene, and bestow the sublimest pleasure, 
that the imagination can conceive. But who shall 
realise these delightful visions ? There is, I own, 
one Prince in Europe,that wants neither the will, 
the spirit, nor the ability: but can he call up 
Milton from his grave, can he re-animate Mar- 
cello, or bid the Barberina or the Salle move 
again ? Can he (as much a king as he is) govern 
an Italian Virtuosa^ destroy her caprice and im- 
pertinence, without hurting her talents, or com- 
mand those unmeaning graces and tricks of voice 
to be silent, that have gained her the adoration 
of her own country ? 

One cause, that so long has hindered, and (I 



fear) will hinder that happy union, which you 
propose, seems to be this: that poetry (which, as 
you allow, must lead the way, and direct the 
operation of the subordinate arts) implies at least 
a liberal education, a degree of literature, and 
various knowledge, whereas the others (with a 
few exceptions) are in the hands of slaves and 
mercenaries, I mean, of people without educa- 
tion, who, though neither destitute of genius, nor 
insensible to fame, must yet make gain their 
principal end, and subject themselves to the pre- 
vailing taste of those, whose fortune only dis- 
tinguishes them from the multitude. 

I cannot help telling you, that eight or ten 
years ago, I was a witness to the power of your 
comic music. — There was a little troop of Buffi, 
that exhibited a Burletta in London, not in the 
Opera House, where the audience is chiefly of 
the better sort, but on one of the common The- 
atres full of all kinds of people and (I believe) 
the fuller from that natural aversion we bear to 
foreigners : their looks and their noise made it 
evident, they did not come thither to hear ; and 
on similar occasions I have known candles 
lighted, broken bottles, and pen knives flung on 
the stage, the benches torn up, the scenes hur- 
ried into the street and set on fire. The curtain 
drew up, the music was of Cocchi, with a few 



262 §>elrction0 from tlir ILetterjf 

airs of Pergolesi interspersed. The singers were 
(as usual) deplorable, but there was one girl (she 
called herself the Niccolina) with little voice and 
less beauty ; but with the utmost justness of ear, 
the strongest expression of countenance, the most 
speaking eyes, the greatest vivacity and variety 
of gesture. Her first appearance instantly fixed 
their attention ; the tumult sunk at once, or if 
any murmur rose, it was hushed by a general cry 
for silence. Her first air ravished everybody; 
they forgot their prejudices, they forgot, that they 
did not understand a word of the language ; they 
entered into all the humour of the part, made 
her repeat all her songs, and continued their 
transports, their laughter, and applause to the end 
of the piece. Within these three last years the 
Paganini and Amici have met with almost the 
same applause once a week from a politer audi- 
ence on the Opera stage. The truth is, the Opera 
itself, though supported there at a great expence 
for so many years, has rather maintained itself 
by the admiration bestowed on a few particular 
voices, or the borrowed taste of a few men of 
condition, that have learned in Italy how to ad- 
mire, than by any genuine love we bear to the 
best Italian music : nor have we yet got any style 
of our own, and this I attribute in great measure 
to the language, which in spite of its energy, 



turtle ^rtfif in d^glanu anu Ijtal^ 263 

plenty, and the crowd of excellent writers this 
nation has produced, does yet (I am sorry to say 
it) retain too much of its barbarous original to 
adapt itself to musical composition. I by no 
means wish to have been born anything but an 
Englishman ; yet I should rejoice to exchange 
tongues with Italy. 

Why this nation has made no advances hither- 
to in painting and sculpture is hard to say. The 
fact is undeniable, and we have the vanity to 
apologise for ourselves, as Virgil did for the 
Romans, Excudent alii,, &c. It is sure, that archi- 
tecture had introduced itself in the reign of the 
unfortunate Charles I. and Inigo Jones has left 
us some few monuments of his skill, that shew 
him capable of greater things. Charles had not 
only a love for the beautiful arts, but some taste 
in them. The confusion that soon followed, 
swept away his magnificent collection ; the artists 
were dispersed, or ruined, and the arts disregarded 
till very lately. The young monarch now on the 
throne is said to esteem and understand them. 
I wish he may have the leisure to cultivate and 
the skill to encourage them with due regard to 
merit, otherwise it is better to neglect them. You, 
Sir, have pointed out the true sources, and the 
best examples to your countrymen. They have 
nothing to do, but to be what they once were ; 



264 Selections from t^t iletters 

and yet perhaps it is more difficult to restore 
good taste to a nation, that has degenerated, than 
to introduce it in one, where as yet it has never 
flourished. You are generous enough to wish, 
and sanguine enough to foresee, that it shall one 
day flourish in England. I too must wish, but 
can hardly extend my hopes so far. It is well 
for us that you do not see our public exhibitions. 
— But our artists are yet in their infancy, and 
therefore I will not absolutely despair. 

I owe to Mr. How the honour I have of con- 
versing with Count Algarotti, and it seems as 
if I meant to indulge myself in the opportunity : 
but I have done. Sir, I will only add, that I am 
proud of your approbation, having no relish for 
any other fame than what is conferred by the 
few real judges, that are so thinly scattered over 
the face of the earth. I am. Sir, with great respect, 
your most obliged humble Servant, 

T. Gray. 

A. S. E. II Conte Fransisco Algarotti, 
Ciambellan di S. M . il Re di Prussia, &c. &c. 
Italia, Bolognia. 

[To William Taylor Howe\ 

Cambridge, September 10, 1763. 

Sir — I ought long since to have made you 
my acknowledgments for the obliging testimonies 



®tif art0 in Cnglano anu 3Ital^ 265 

of your esteem that you have conferred upon 
me ; but Count Algarotti's books did not come 
to my hands till the end of July, and since that 
time I have been prevented by illness from do- 
ing any of my duties. I have read them more 
than once with increasing satisfaction, and 
should wish mankind had eyes to descry the 
genuine sources of their own pleasures, and 
judgment to know the extent, that nature has 
preseribed to them : if this were the case, it 
would be their interest to appoint Count Alga- 
rotti their " Arbiter Elegantiarum." He is highly 
civil to our nation, but there is one little point, 
in which he does not do us justice. I am the 
more solicitous about it, because it relates to 
the only taste we can call our own, the only 
proof of our original talent in matter of pleasure ; 
I mean, our skill in gardening, and laying out 
grounds. That the Chinese have this beautiful 
art in high perfection, seems very probable from 
the Jesuits' Letters^ and more from Chambers's 
little discourse published some few years ago. 
But it is very certain, we copied nothing from 
them, nor had anything but nature our model. 
It is not forty years, since the art was born among 
us ; and it is sure, that there was nothing in 
Europe like it, and as sure, we then had no in- 
formation on this head from China at all. 



266 ^elections? from tlje Mttttti 

■ I shall rejoice to see you in England, and talk 
over these and many other matters with you at 
leisure. Do not despair of your health, because 
you have not found all the effects you had pro- 
mised yourself from a finer climate. I have 
known people, who have experienced the same 
thing, and yet at their return have lost all their 
complaints, as by miracle. — I am, S^, your 
obliged humble Servant, 

T. Gray. 
P.S. — I have answered C. Algarotti, whose 
letter I conveyed to Mr. Mason, whether he has 
received his books, I have not yet heard. Mr. 
Brown charges me with his best compliments. 



ALGAROTTI, PERGOLESI, ETC. 

[To William Mason, from Cambridge, 1763] 

Dear Mason — As I have no more received 
my little thing than you have yours, though they 
were sent by the Beverley^ Captain Allen, I have 
returned no answer yet ; but I must soon, and 
that in plain English, and so should you too. In 
the meantime I borrowed and read them. That 
on the Opera is a good clever dissertation, dedi- 
cated to Guglielmo Pitt ; the other (// Congresso 
di Citera)^ in poetical prose, describes the nego- 



aigarotti, J^ersole0t 267 

ciation of three ambassadresses sent by England, 
France, and Italy to the Court of Cupid, to lay 
before him the state of his empire in the three 
nations ; and is not contemptible neither in its 
kind ; so pray be civil to the count and Signor 
Howe. ... 

I like your Sonnet better than most dedica- 
tions ; it is simple and natural. The best line m 
it is : — 

"So, to deceive my solitary days," &c. 

There are an expression or two that break the 
repose of it by looking common and overworn : 
" sequestered shade," " woodbine sprays," " se- 
lected lays "; I dare not mention " lettered ease." 
" Life's vain vision " does not pronounce well. 
Bating these, it looks in earnest, and as if you 
could live at Aston, which is not true; but that is 
not my affair. 

I have got a mass of Pergolesi, which is all 
divinity ; but it was lent me, or you should have 
it by all means. Send for six lessons for the piano- 
forte or harpsichord of Carlo Bach, not the Opera 
Bach, but his brother. To my fancy they are 
charming, and in the best Italian style. Mr. Ne- 
ville and the old musicians here do not like them, 
but to me they speak not only music, but passion. 
I cannot play them, though they are not hard ; 
yet I make a smattering that serves " to deceive 



268 g>elettion0 from t^t fletters? 

my solitary days " ; and I figure to myself that 
I hear you touch them triumphantly. . . . 

[To William Taylor Howe, from London, November, 1763] 

... I saw and read the beginning of this 
year, the Congresso di Citera^ and was excessively 
pleased in spite of prejudice, for I am naturally no 
friend to allegory, nor to poetical prose. Entre 
nous, what gives me the least pleasure of any 
of his writings, that I have seen, is the Newton- 
iasm. It is so direct an imitation of Fontenelle, a 
writer not easy to imitate, and least of all in the 
Italian tongue, whose character and graces are of 
a higher style, and never adapt themselves easily 
to the elegant badinage and legerete of conversa- 
tion, that sets so well on the French. But this 
is a secret between us. 

I am glad to hear, he thinks of revisiting Eng- 
land; though I am a little ashamed of my country 
at this present. Our late acquired glory does not 
set becomingly upon us; and even the Author 
of it, that Restttutor d' Inghilterra^ is doing God 
knows what ! If he should deign to follow the 
track of vulgar Ministers, and regain his power 
by ways injurious to his fame, whom can we trust 
hereafter ? M. de Nivernois on his return to 
France says (I hear) of England, " Quel Roy, 
quel Peuple, quelle Societe ! " And so say I. . . . 



I^oltaire, Hou^sfeau 269 



VOLTAIRE, ROUSSEAU, ETC. 

[To Thomas Wharton, from Cambridge, July lo, 1764] 

. . . Two more volumes of BufFon are come 
over: I mention them in case you choose to have 
them. I know of nothing else, except half a doz- 
en new works of that inexhaustible, eternal, en- 
tertaining scribbler Voltaire, who at last (I fear) 
will go to heaven, for to him entirely it is owing, 
that the king of France and his council have 
reviewed and set aside the decision of the parlia- 
ment of Thoulouse in the affair of Calas. The 
poor man, *tis true, has been broke on the wheel 
long ago ; but his widow and wretched family 
may have some reparation, and his murtherers 
may smart a little for it. You see a scribbler may 
be of some use in the world ! . . . 

\To William Mason, from Cambridge, November, 1764] 

... I read and liked the Epigram as it was 
printed, and do insist it is better without the last 
lines, not that the thought is amiss, but because 
the same rhyme is repeated, and the sting is not 
in the epigrammatic style ; I mean, not easy and 
familiar. In a satire it might do very well. Mr. 
Churchill is dead indeed, drowned in a butt of 
claret, which was tapped on the meeting of the 



270 ^electtoitflf from ttie !Lecter0 

Friends at Boulogne. He made an excellent end, 
as his executor Humphrey Cotes testifies. I did 
not write any of the elegies, being busy in writing 
the Temple of Tragedy. Send for it forthwith, for 
you are highly interested in it. If I had not 
owned the thing, perhaps you might have gone 
and taken it for the Reverend Mr. Langhorne's. 
It is divine. I have not read the Philosophic Dic- 
tionary. I can stay with great patience for any- 
thing that comes from Voltaire. They tell me 
it is frippery, and blasphemy, and wit. I could 
have forgiven myself if I had not read Rousseau*s 
Letters. Always excepting the Contract Social^ it 
is the dullest performance he ever published. It 
is a weak attempt to separate the miracles from 
the morality of the Gospel. The latter he would 
have you think he believes was sent from God, 
and the former he very explicitly takes for an 
imposture. This is in order to prove the cruelty 
and injustice of the State of Geneva in burning 
his Emile. The latter part of his book is to shew 
the abuses that have crept into the constitution 
of his country, which point (if you are con- 
cerned about it) he makes out very well, and 
his mtention in this is plainly to raise a tumult in 
the city, and to be revenged on the Petit Conseil, 
who condemned his writings to the flames. . . . 



ttri^e Cattle of ((^tranco, l^ou^sfeau 271 



THE CASTLE OF OTRANTO, ROUS- 
SEAU, ETC. 

\To Horace Walpole, from Cambridge] 

Sunday, December 30, 1764. 

I HAVE received the Castie of Otranto, and re- 
turn you my thanks for it. It engages our atten- 
tion here, makes some of us cry a little, and all 
in general afraid to go to bed o* nights. We take 
it for a translation, and should believe it to be 
a true story, if it were not for St. Nicholas. 

When your pen was in your hand you might 
have been a little more communicative, for 
though disposed enough to believe the opposition 
rather consumptive, I am entirely ignorant of 
all the symptoms. Your canonical book I have 
been reading with great satisfaction. He speak- 
eth as one having authority. If Englishmen have 
any feeling left, methinks they must feel now; 
and if the Ministry have any feeling (whom no- 
body will suspect of insensibility) they must cut 
off the author's ears, for it is in all the forms 
a most wicked libel. Is the old man and the 
lawyer put on, or is it real ? or has some real 
lawyer furnished a good part of the materials, 
and another person employed them ? This I 
guess ; for there is an uncouthness of diction in 



272 ^elections? from clie llettersf 

the beginning which is not supported through- 
out, though it now and then occurs again, as if 
the writer was weary of supporting the character 
he had assumed, when the subject had warmed 
him, beyond dissimulation. 

Rousseau's Letters I am reading heavily, 
heavily ! He justifies himself, till he convinces 
me that he deserved to be burnt, at least that 
his book did. I am not got through him, and 
you never will. Voltaire I detest, and have not 
seen his book : I shall in good time. You sur- 
prise me, when you talk of going in February. 
Pray, does all the minority go too ? I hope you 
have a reason. Desperare de republica is a deadly 
sin in politics. . . . 



AN ITINERARY OF FRANCE AND ITALY 

[To William Palgrave, probably from Cambridge} 

March, 1765. 

My instructions, of which you are so desir- 
ous, are twofold : the first part relates to what is 
past, and that will be rather diffuse : the second, 
to what is to come ; and that we shall treat more 
succinctly, and with all due brevity. 

First, when you come to Paris you will not fail 
to visit the cloister of the Chartreuse, where Le 



Sin ^tintut^ of iFrance artu 3|cal^ 273 

Sueur (in the history of St. Bruno) has almost 
equalled Raphael. Then your Gothic inclina- 
tions will naturally lead you to the Sainte 
Chapelle built by St. Louis : in the treasury is 
preserved one of the noblest gems of the Au- 
gustan age. When you take a trip into the 
country, there is a fine old chapel at Vincennes 
with admirable painted windows j and at Fon- 
tainbleau, the remains of Francis the First's 
magnificence might give you some pleasure. In 
your way to Lyons you will take notice of the 
view over the Saone, from about Tournus and 
Macon. Fail not to walk a few miles along the 
banks of the Rhone, down the river. I would 
certainly make a little journey to the Grande 
Chartreuse, up the mountains : at your return 
out of Italy this will have little effect. At Turin 
you will visit the Capuchins' convent just with- 
out the city, and the Superga at no great distance, 
for the sake of the views. At Genoa observe the 
Terrenoof the Palace Brignoli, as a model of an 
apartment elegantly disposed in a hot climate. 
At Parma you will adore the great Madonna 
and St. Jerome, once at St. Antonio Abbate, 
but now (I am told) in the Ducal Palace. In the 
Madonna della Steccata observe the Moses 
breaking the tables, a chiaroscuro figure of 
the Parmeggiano at too great a height, and ill- 



274 g>flettton0 from cl^e lletter^ 

lighted, but immense. At the Capuchins, the 
great Pieta of Annib. Carracci ; in the Villa 
Ducale, the room painted by Carlo Cignani ; 
and the last works of Agostino Caracci at Mo- 
dena. I know not what remams now, the flower 
of the collection is gone to Dresden. Bologna is 
too vast a subject for me to treat : the palaces 
and churches are open ; you have nothing to 
do but to see them all. In coming down the 
Appennine you will see (if the sun shines) all 
Tuscany before you. And so I have brought 
you to Florence, where to be sure there is no- 
thing worth seeing. Secondly, 

1. Vide, quodcunque videndum est. 

2. Quodcunque ego non vidi, id tu vide. 

3. Quodcunque videris, scribe & describe; 
memoria ne fide. 

4. Scribendo nil admirare ; & cum pictor non 
sis, verbis omnia depinge. 

5. Tritam viatorum compitam calca, & cum 
poteris, desere. 

6. Eme, quodcunque emendum est; I do not 
mean pictures, medals, gems, drawings, &c., 
only ; but clothes, stockings, shoes, handker- 
chiefs, little moveables ; everything you may 
want all your life long : but have a care of the 
custom house. 

Pray, present my most respectful compliments 



a g>onnet h^ ^as^on 275 

to Mr. Weddell. I conclude when the winter is 
over, and you have seen Rome and Naples, you 
will strike out of the beaten path of English 
travellers, and see a little of the country, throw 
yourselves into the bosom of the Appennine, 
survey the horrid lake of Amsanctus (look in 
Cluver's Italy), catch the breezes on the coast of 
Taranto and Salerno, expatiate to the very toe 
of the continent, perhaps strike over the Faro of 
Messina, and having measured the gigantic 
columns of Girgenti, and the tremendous cav- 
erns of Syracusa, refresh yourselves amidst the 
fragrant vale of Enna. Oh ! chebel riposo ! Addio. 



A SONNET BY MASON 

[To William Mason, from Cambridge, in the spring of 1765] 

... I hope in God the dedicatorial sonnet 
has not staid for me. I object nothing to the 
second line, but like it the better for Milton, and 
with him too I would read in penult, (give me 
a shilling) " his ghastly smile," &c. But if you 
won't put it in, then read " wonted smile," and 
a little before " secure from envy." I see no- 
thing to alter. What I said was the best line 
is the best line still. Do come hither, and I will 
read and criticise " your amorous ditties all 
a winter's day." . . . 



276 Selections from ttje ilettersf 



BENTHAM'S GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE 

[To James Bentham, from Cambridge] 

About the year 1765. 

To THE Rev. Mr. Bentham — Mr. Gray 
returns the papers and prints to Mr. Bentham, 
with many thanks for the sight of them. 

Concludes he has laid aside his intention of 
publishing the first four sections of his Intro- 
duction, that contain the settlement and progress 
of Christianity among the Saxons; as (however 
curious and instructive of themselves) they 
certainly have too slight a connection with the 
subject in hand to make a part of the present 
work. 

Has received much entertainment and infor- 
mation from his remarks on the state of Archi- 
tecture among the Saxons, and thinks he has 
proved his point against the authority of Stow 
and Somner. The words of Eddius, Richard of 
Hexham, &c., must be everywhere cited in the 
original tongue, as the most accurate translation 
is in these cases not to be trusted ; this Mr. B. 
has indeed commonly done in the MSS., but not 
everywhere. 

P. 31. He says, the instances Sir C. Wren 
brings, were, some of them at leasts undoubtedly 



115entl)am'0 (3ot^it arctiitecture 277 

erected after the Conquest. Sure they were all 
so without exception. 

There is much probability in what he asserts 
with respect to the New Norman Mode of build- 
ing ; though this is not, nor perhaps can be, 
made out with so much precision as the former 
point. 

P. 35. Here, where the Author is giving a 
compendious view of the peculiarities that dis- 
tinguish the Saxon style, it might be mentioned, 
that they had no tabernacles (or niches and can- 
opies), nor any statues to adorn their buildings 
on the outside, which are the principal grace of 
what is called Gothic ; the only exception that 
I can recollect, is a little figure of Bishop Here- 
bert Losing over the north transept door at Nor- 
wich, which appears to be of that time : but 
this is rather a mezzo-relievo than a statue, and 
it is well known that they used reliefs some- 
times with profusion, as in the Saxon gateway 
of the Abbey at Bury, the gate of the Temple 
Church at London, and the two gates at Ely, 
&c. 

The want of pinnacles and of tracery in the 
vaults, are afterwards mentioned, but may as 
well be placed here too (in short) among the 
other characteristics. 

Escutcheons of arms are hardly (if ever) seen 



278 ^tUaions from ttie Letters 

in these fabrics, which are the most frequent of 
all decorations in after-times. 

P. 34. Besides the chevron-work (or zig-zag 
moulding), so common, which is here mentioned, 
there is also. 

The Billeted-moulding^ as if a cylinder should 
be cut into small pieces of equal length, and 
these stuck on alternately round the face of the 
arches, as in the choir at Peterborough, and at 
St. Cross, &c. 

The Nail-head.^ resembling the heads of great 
nails driven in at regular distances, as in the nave 
of old St. PauFs, and the great tower of Here- 
ford, &c. 

The Nehule^ a projection terminated by an 
undulating line as under the upper range of 
windows, on the outside of Peterborough. 

Then to adorn their vast massive columns 
there was the spiral-grove winding round the 
shafts, and the net^ or loxenge-work^ overspreading 
them, both of which appear at Durham, and the 
first in the undercroft at Canterbury. 

These (ew things are mentioned only, because 
Mr. Bentham's work is so nearly complete in 
this part, that one would wish it were quite so. 
His own observation may doubtless suggest to 
him many more peculiarities, which, however 
minute in appearance, are not contemptible, be- 



Bnrtliam'fif aotl^ic arctiitmure 279 

cause they directly belong to his subject, and con- 
tribute to ascertain the age of an edifice at first 
sight. The great deficiency is from Henry Vlth's 
time to the Reformation, when the art was in- 
deed at its height. 

P. 36. At York, under the choir, remains 
much of the old work, built by Archbishop Rog- 
er, of Bishop's-bridge, in Henry Kd's reign j the 
arches are but just pointed, and rise on short 
round pillars, whose capitals are adorned with 
animals and foliage. 

P. 37. Possibly the pointed arch might take 
its rise from those arcades we see in the early 
Norman (or Saxon) buildings on walls, where the 
wide semi-circular arches cross and intersect each 
other, and form thereby at their intersection 
exactly a narrow and sharp-pointed arch. In the 
wall south of the choir at St. Cross, is a facing 
of such wide, round, interlaced arches by way of 
ornament to a flat vacant space; only so much 
of it as lies between the legs of the two neigh- 
bouring arches, where they cross each other, is 
pierced through the fabric, and forms a little 
range of long pointed windows. It is of King 
Stephen's time. 

P. 43. As Mr. B. has thought it proper to 
make a compliment to the present set of governors 
in their respective churches, it were to be wished 



28o ^election0 from t^t llettew 

he would insert a little reflection on the rage of 
repairing, beautifying, whitewashing, painting, 
and gilding, and above all, the mixture of Greek 
(or Roman) ornaments in Gothic edifices. This 
well-meant fury has been, and will be little less 
fatal to our ancient magnificent edifices, than the 
Reformation and the civil wars. 

Mr. G. would wish to be told (at Mr. Ben- 
tham's leisure) whether over the great pointed 
arches, on which the western tower at Ely rises, 
anything like a semicircular curve appears in the 
stone work ? And whether the screen (or rood- 
loft) with some part of the south-cross, may not 
possibly be a part of the more ancient church 
built by Abbot Simeon and Fitz-Gilbert. 



AN EPITAPH BY MASON 

[To William Mason] 

Old Park, Sunday, July 19, 1767. 

Dear Mason — I come forthwith to the 
epitaph which you have had the charity to write 
at the Archbishop's request. It will certainly do 
(for it is both touching and new), but yet will 
require much finishing. I like not the first three 
lines : it is the party most nearly concerned, at 
least some one closely connected, and bearing a 



jSn Cftpitajpli h^ #a0on 281 

part of the loss, that is usually supposed to 
speak on these occasions, but these lines appear 
to be written by the chaplain, and have an air 
of flattery to his patron. All that is good in them 
is better expressed in the four last verses : 
" where the cold ashes," &c. These five verses 
are well, except the word " benignant," and the 
thought (which is not clear to me, besides that 
it is somewhat hardly expressed) of " when beau- 
ty ojjly blooms," &c. In gems that want colour 
and perfection, a foil is put under them to add 
to their lustre. In others, as in diamonds, the 
foil is black ; and in this sense, when a pretty 
woman chooses to appear in public with a home- 
ly one, we say she uses her as a foil. This puz- 
zles me, as you neither mean that beauty sets off 
virtue by its contrast and opposition to it, nor 
that her virtue was so imperfect as to stand in 
need of beauty to heighten its lustre. For the 
rest I read, " that sweetest harmony of soul," 
&c. ; " such was the maid," &c. All this to 
the end I much approve, except " crowned with 
truth," and " lightens all their load." The first 
is not precise ; in the latter you say too much. 
" Spreads his child," too, is not the word. When 
you have corrected all these faults it will be ex- 
cellent. 



282 g>election0 front ttie ilettew 

[From Old Park, August 9, 1767] 

... I exceedingly approve the epitaph in its 
present shape. Even what I best liked before is 
altered for the better. The various readings I do 
not mind, only, perhaps, I should read the 2d line : 

" Grace that with tenderness and sense combined, 
To form,'" &c. 

for I hate '' sentiment " in verse. I will say 
nothing to " taste " and " truth," for perhaps the 
Archbishop may fancy they are fine things ; but, 
to my palate, they are wormwood. All the rest 
is just as it should be, and what he ought to 
admire. . . . 



BEATTIE, FERGUSON'S ESSAY 

[To James Beattie] 
Old Park, near Darlington, Durham, August 12, 1767. 

I received from Mr. Williamson, that very 
obliging mark you were pleased to give me of 
your remembrance. Had I not entertained some 
slight hopes of revisiting Scotland this summer, 
and consequently of seeing you at Aberdeen, I 
had sooner acknowledged, by letter, the favour you 
have done me. Those hopes are now at an end ; 
but I do not therefore despair of seeing again a 
country that has given me so much pleasure ; 



Wmtiti JFergttflfon'fi? C0sfa^ 283 

nor of telling you, in person, how much I es- 
teem you and (as you choose to call them") your 
amusements : the specimen of them, which you 
were so good as to send me, I think excellent ; 
the sentiments are such as a melancholy imag- 
ination naturally suggests in solitude and silence, 
and that (though light and business may suspend 
or banish them at times) return with but so much 
the greater force upon a feeling heart : the dic- 
tion' is elegant and unconstrained; not loaded 
with epithets and figures, nor flagging into prose; 
the versification is easy and harmonious. My 
only objection is . . . 

You see. Sir, I take the liberty you indulged 
me in when I first saw you ; and therefore I 
make no excuses for it, but desire you would 
take your revenge on me in kind. 

I have read over (but too hastily) Mr. Fer- 
guson's book. There are uncommon strains of 
eloquence in it : and I was surprised to find not 
one single idiom of his country (I think) in the 
whole work. He has not the fault you mention. 
His application to the heart is frequent, and 
often successful. His love of Montesquieu and 
Tacitus has led him into a manner of writing 
too short-winded and sententious ; which those 
great men, had they lived in better times and 
under a better government, would have avoided. 



284 ^tltttion^ from c^e tlrccers^ 



AN ODE BY BEATTIE 

[To James Beatttef from Cambridge, December 24, 1767] 

. . . I have read, with much pleasure, an Ode 
of yours (in which you have done me the hon- 
our to adopt a measure that I have used) on 
Lord Hay's birth-day. Though I do not love 
panegyric, I cannot but applaud this, for there 
is nothing mean in it. The diction is easy and 
noble, the texture of the thoughts lyric, and the 
versification harmonious. The few expressions I 
object to are . . . These, indeed, are minutiae; 
but they weigh for something, as half a grain 
makes a difference in the value of a diamond. 



ALGAROTTI'S WORKS 

[To William Taylor Howe\ 

Cambridge, Pembroke College, 
January 12, 1768. 

Sir — You perceive by Mr. Brown's letter, 
that I passed all the summer in the North of 
England, went from thence to London, and did 
not arrive here till the middle of December, 
where I found your parcel. Since that time I 
have been generally confined to my room, and 



ail3arotti'0 Morksf 285 

besides I was willing to go through the eight vol- 
umes, before I returned you an answer. This 
must be my excuse to you, for only doing now, 
what in mere civility I ought to have done long 
ago. First I must condole with you, that so neat 
an edition should swarm in almost every page 
with errors of the press, not only in notes and 
citations from Greek, French, and English au- 
thors, but in the Italian text itself, greatly to the 
disreputation of the Leghorn publishers. This 
is the only reason (I think), that could make an 
edition in England necessary. But I doubt you 
would not find the matter much mended here; 
our presses, as they improve in beauty, declining 
daily in accuracy ; besides you would find the 
expense very considerable, and the sale in no 
proportion to it, as in reality, it is but few people 
in England, that read currently and with pleas- 
ure the Italian tongue; and the fine old editions 
of their capital writers are sold in London for a 
lower price, than they bear in Italy. An Eng- 
lish translation I can by no means advise. The 
justness of thought and good sense might remain; 
but the graces of elocution (which make a great 
part of Algarotti's merit) would be entirely lost, 
and that merely from the very different genius and 
complexion of the two languages. 

I rather think these volumes should be hand- 



286 ^tkctiona from t^t JLettew 

somely bound, before they are put into the library : 
they bind very neatly here ; and if you approve 
it, Mr. Brown will order it to be done. Doubt- 
less there can be no impropriety in making the 
same present to the University, nor need you at 
all to fear for the reputation of your friend : he has 
merit enough to recommend him in any country, 
a tincture of various sorts of knowledge ; an 
acquaintance with all the beautiful arts j an easy 
command, a precision, warmth, and richness of 
expression, and a judgment, that is rarely mis- 
taken, on any subject to which he applies it. Of 
the dialogues I have formerly told you my 
thoughts. The essays and letters (many of them 
entirely new to me) on the arts^ are curious and 
entertaining ; those on other subjects (even where 
the thoughts are not new to me, but borrowed 
from his various reading and conversation) often 
better put, and better expressed than in the orig- 
inals. I rejoice, when I see Machiavel defended 
or illustrated, who to me appears one of the wisest 
men that any nation in any age has produced. 
Most of the other discourses military or political 
are well worth reading, though that on Kouli- 
Khan was a mere jeu-d'esprit, a sort of historical 
exercise. The letters from Russia I have read 
before with pleasure, particularly the narrative 
of Munich's and Lascy*s campaigns. The de- 



Malpole'sf J^fetoric 2Doubt0 287 

tached thoughts are often new and just; but there 
should have been a revisal of them, as they are 
often to be found in his letters repeated in the 
very same words. Some too of the familiar letters 
might have been spared. The Congress of Cythera 
I had seen, and liked before, the Giudicio d^ Amove 
is an addition rather inferior to it. The verses 
are not equal to the prose, but they are above 
mediocrity. . . . 



WALPOLE'S HISTORIC DOUBTS 

\To Horace Walpole\ 

Pembroke College, February 14, 1768. 

I received the book you were so good to send 
me, and have read it again (indeed I could hardly 
be said to have read it before) with attention and 
with pleasure. Your second edition is so rapid 
in its progress, that it will now hardly answer 
any purpose to tell you either my own objections, 
or those of other people. Certain it is, that you 
are universally read here; but what we think is 
not so easy to come at. We stay as usual to see 
the success, to learn the judgment of the town, 
to be directed in our opinions by those of more 
competent judges. If they like you, we shall ; if 
any one of name write against you, we give you 



288 ^tltttiontsi from tt)e ilectersf 

up ; for we are modest and diffident of ourselves, 
and not without reason. History in particular is 
not our forte; for (the truth is) we read only 
modern books and pamphlets of the day. I have 
heard it objected, that you raise doubts and dif- 
ficulties, and do not satisfy them by telling us 
what is really the case. I have heard you charged 
with disrespect to the King of Prussia ; and above 
all to King William, and the Revolution. These 
are seriously the most sensible things I have heard 
said, and all that I recollect. If you please to 
justify yourself, you may. 

My own objections are little more essential : 
they relate chiefly to inaccuracies of style, which 
either debase the expression or obscure the mean- 
ing. I could point out several small particulars of 
this kind, and will do so, if you think it can serve 
any purpose after publication. When I hear you 
read, they often escape me, partly because I am 
attending to the subject, and partly because from 
habit I understand you where a stranger might 
often be at a loss. 

As to your arguments, most of the principal 
parts are made out with a clearness and evidence 
that no one would expect, where materials are 
so scarce. Yet I still suspect Richard of the murder 
of Henry VI. The chroniclerof Croyland charges 
it full on him, though without a name or any 



Walpole'0 ^isitotic 2Doubt0 289 

mention of circumstances. The interests of Ed- 
ward were the interests of Richard too, though 
the throne were not then in view; and that Henry 
still stood in their way, they might well imagine, 
because, though deposed and imprisoned once 
before, he had regained his liberty and his crown ; 
and was still adored by the people. I should think, 
from the word tyrannic the passage was written 
after Richard had assumed the crown : but, if it 
was earlier, does not the bare imputation imply 
very early suspicions, at least of Richard's bloody 
nature, especially in the mouth of a person that 
was no enemy to the House of York, nor friend 
to that of Beaufort? 

That the Duchess of Burgundy, to try the 
temper of the nation, should set up a false Pre- 
tender to the Throne (when she had the true Duke 
of York in her hands), and that the queen-mother 
(knowing her son was alive) should countenance 
that design, is a piece of policy utterly incom- 
prehensible ; being the most likely means to ruin 
their own scheme, and throw a just suspicion of 
fraud and falsehood on the cause of truth, which 
Henry could not fail to seize and turn to his ad- 
vantage. Mr. Hume's first query, as far as relates 
to the queen-mother, will still have some weight. 
Is it probable she should give her eldest daughter 
to Henry, and invite him to claim the crown, 



290 ^tltttiona from t^t iletter0 

unless she had been sure that her sons were then 
dead ? As to her seeming consent to the match 
between Elizabeth and Richard, she and her 
daughters were in his power, which appeared 
now well fixed; his enemies' designs within the 
kingdom being everywhere defeated, and Henry 
unable to raise any considerable force abroad. 
She was timorous and hopeless; or she might 
dissemble, in order to cover her secret dealings 
with Richmond : and if this were the case, she 
hazarded little, supposing Richard to dissemble 
too, and never to have thought seriously of mar- 
rying his niece. 

Another unaccountable thing is, that Richard, 
a prince of the House of York, undoubtedly 
brave, clear-sighted, artful, attentive to business ; 
of boundless generosity, as appears from his 
grants ; just and merciful, as his laws and his 
pardons seem to testify ; having subdued the 
Queen and her hated faction, and been called 
first to the protectorship and then to the crown 
by the nobility and by the parliament ; with the 
common people to friend (as Carte often asserts), 
and having nothing against him but the illegiti- 
mate family of his brother Edward, and the at- 
tainted House of Clarence (both of them within 
his power) ; — that such a man should see within 
a few months Buckingham, his best friend, and 



Malpole'0 l^fetoric SDoubt^ 291 

almost all the southern and western counties in 
one day in arms against him ; that having seen 
all these insurrections come to nothing, he should 
march with a gallant army against a handful of 
needy adventurers, led by a fugitive, who had 
not the shadow of a title, nor any virtues to 
recommend him, nor any foreign strength to de- 
pend on ; that he should be betrayed by almost 
all his troops, and fall a sacrifice ; — all this is to 
me utterly improbable, and I do not ever expect 
to see it accounted for. 

I take this opportunity to tell you, that Alga- 
rotti (as I see in the new edition of his works 
printed at Leghorn) being employed to buy pict- 
ures for the King of Poland, purchased among 
others the famous Holbein that was at Venice. 
It don't appear that he knew anything of your 
book : yet he calls it the consul Meyer and his 
family^ as if it were then known to be so in that 
city. A young man here, who is a diligent reader 
of books, an antiquary, and a painter, informs 
me, that at the Red Lion Inn at Newmarket is 
a piece of tapestry containing the very design of 
your marriage of Henry the Sixth, only with sev- 
eral more figures in it, both men and women ; 
that he would have bought it of the people, but 
they refused to part with it. Mr. Mason, who is 
here, desires to present his best respects to you. 



292 ^elmionfif from tf)t ilectersi 

He says, that to efface from our annals the his- 
tory of any tyrant, is to do an essential injury to 
mankind : but he forgives it, because you have 
shewn Henry the Seventh to be a greater devil 
than Richard. 

Pray do not be out of humour. When you 
first commenced an author, you exposed your- 
self to pit, boxes, and gallery. Any coxcomb in 
the world may come in and hiss if he pleases ; 
ay, and (what is almost as bad) clap too, and 
you cannot hinder him. I saw a little squib fired 
at you in a newspaper by some of the House of 
Torke^ for speaking lightly of chancellors. Adieu ! 
I am ever yours, 

T. Gray. 

[From Cambridge, February 25, 1768] 

... I have looked into Speed and Leslie. It 
appears very odd that Speed in the speech he 
makes for P. Warbeck, addressed to James IV. 
of Scotland, should three times cite the manu- 
script proclamation of Perkin, then in the hands 
of Sir Robert Cotton ; and yet when he gives us 
the proclamation afterwards (on occasion of the 
insurrection in Cornwall) he does not cite any 
such manuscript. In Casley's Catalogue of the 
Cotton Library you may see whether this manu- 
script proclamation still exists or not : if it does. 



OT^alpoU'sf J^i0toric SDoubt^ 293 

it may be found at the Museum. Leslie will give 
you no satisfaction at all : though no subject of 
England, he could not write freely on this mat- 
ter, as the title of Mary (his mistress) to the 
crown of England was derived from that of Hen- 
ry VII. Accordingly he everywhere treats Perkin 
as an impostor; yet drops several little expres- 
sions inconsistent with that supposition. He has 
preserved no proclamation : he only puts a short 
speeeh into Perkin's mouth, the substance of 
which is taken by Speed, and translated in the 
end of his, which is a good deal longer : the 
whole matter is treated by Leslie very concisely 
and superficially. I can easily transcribe it, if 
you please ; but I do not see that it could an^ 
swer any purpose. 

Mr. Boswell's book I was going to recom- 
mend to you, when I received your letter ; it 
has pleased and moved me strangely, all (I 
mean) that relates to Paoli. He is a man born 
two thousand years after his time ! The pam- 
phlet proves ^yhat I have always maintained, 
that any fool may write a most valuable book by 
chance, if he will only tell us what he heard and 
saw with veracity. Of Mr. Boswell's truth I 
have not the least suspicion, because I am sure 
he could invent nothing of this kind. The true 
title of this part of his work is, a Dialogue be- 
tween a Green-Goose and a Hero. . . . 



> Praised. 



294 ^tltttionsi from tl^e timers? 

Pembroke Hall, March 6, 1768. 

Here is Sir William Cornwallis, entitled £s- 
sayes of certa'ine Paradoxes, 2d Edit. 161 7. Lond. 

King Richard III. 

The French Pockes. 

Nothing. 

Good to be in debt. 

Sadnesse. 

Julian the Apostate's virtues. 

The title-page will probably suffice you ; but 
if you would know any more of him, he has read 
nothing but the common chronicles, and those 
without attention ; for example, speaking of Anne 
the queen, he says, she was barren, of which 
Richard had often complained to Rotheram. He 
extenuates the murder of Henry VI. and his son : 
the first, he says, might be a malicious insinua- 
tion, for that many did suppose he died of mere 
melancholy and grief: the latter cannot be proved 
to be the action of Richard (though executed in 
his presence) ; and if it were, he did it out of 
love to his brother Edward. He justifies the 
death of the Lords at Pomfret, from reasons of 
state, for his own preservation, the safety of the 
commonwealth, and the ancient nobility. The ex- 
ecution of Hastings he excuses from necessity, 
from the dishonesty and sensuality of the man : 



Walpole'fi? l^isftoric 2Doubts( 295 

what was his crime with respect to Richard, he 
does not say. Dr. Shaw's Sermon was not by the 
King's command, but to be imputed to the preach- 
er's own ambition : but if it was by order, to 
charge his mother with adultery was a matter of no 
such great moment.^ since it is no wonder in that sex. 
Of the murder in the Tower he doubts : but if 
it were by his order, the offence was to God, 
not to his people; and how could he demonstrate 
his love more amply ^ than to venture his soul for their 
quiet? Have you enough, pray? You see it is 
an idle declamation, the exercise of a school-boy 
that is to be bred a statesman. 

I have looked in Stowe; to be sure there is 
no proclamation there. Mr. Hume, I suppose, 
means Speed^whevQ it is given, how truly I know 
not; but that he had seen the original is sure, 
and seems to quote the very words of it in the 
beginning of that speech which Perkin makes to 
James IV. and also just afterwards, where he 
treats of the Cornish rebellion. Guthrie, you see, 
has vented himself in the Critical Review. His 
History I never saw, nor is it here, nor do I 
know any one that ever saw it. He is a rascal, 
but rascals may chance to meet with curious 
records; and that commission to Sir I. Tyrrell 
(if it be not a lie) is such ; so is the order for 
Henry the Sixth's funeral. I would by no means 



296 ^titction& from tje fLmtt& 

take notice of him, write what he would. I am 
glad you have seen the Manchester Roll. 

It is not I that talk of Phil, de Comines. It was 
mentioned to me as a thing that looked like a 
voluntary omission, but I see you have taken 
notice of it, in the note to p. 71, though rather 
too slightly. You have not observed that the 
same writer says, c. 55, Richard tua de sa main 
ou fit tuer en sa presence^ quelque lieu apart^ ce bon 
homme le Roi Henry. Another oversight I think 
there is at p. 43, where you speak of the Roll 
of Parliament^ 2in6. the contract with Lady Elea- 
nor Botelar, as things newly come to light. 
Whereas Speed has given at large the same Roll 
in his History. Adieu ! — I am ever yours, 

T. Gray. 



THE CHARACTER OF A PHILOSOPHER 

\To Charles von Bonstetten\ 

Cambridge, April 12, 1770. 

Never did I feel, my dear Bonstetten, to what 
a tedious length the few short moments of our 
life may be extended by impatience and expecta- 
tion, till you had left me ; nor ever knew before 
with so strong a conviction how much this frail 
body sympathizes with the inquietude of the 



tClie Character of a ^^i\oio}fl)tt 297 

mind. I am grown old in the compass of less 
than three weeks, like the Sultan in the Turkish 
tales, that did but plunge his head into a vessel 
of water and take it out again, as the standers 
by affirmed, at the command of a Dervise, and 
found he had passed many years in captivity, and 
begot a large family of children. The strength 
and spirits that now enable me to write to you, 
are only owing to your last letter a temporary 
gleam of sunshine. Heaven knows when it may 
shine again ! I did not conceive till now, I own, 
what it was to lose you, nor felt the solitude and 
insipidity of my own condition before I possessed 
the happiness of your friendship. I must cite 
another Greek writer to you, because it is much 
to my purpose : he is describing the character of 
a genius truly inclined to philosophy. " It in- 
cludes," he says, "qualifications rarely united in 
one single mind, quickness of apprehension and 
a retentive memory, vivacity and application, 
gentleness and magnanimity ; to these he adds 
an invincible love of truth, and consequently of 
probity and justice. Such a soul," continues he, 
" will be little inclined to sensual pleasures, and 
consequently temperate ; a stranger to illiberality 
and avarice ; being accustomed to the most ex- 
tensive views of things, and sublimest contem- 
plations, it will contract an habitual greatness, 



298 Selections! from tlje llettersi 

will look down with a kind of disregard on hu- 
man life and on death ; consequently, will possess 
the truest fortitude. Such," says he, " is the mind 
born to govern the rest of mankind." But these 
very endowments, so necessary to a soul formed 
for philosophy, are often its ruin, especially when 
joined to the external advantages of wealth, no- 
bility, strength, and beauty ; that is, if it light on 
a bad soil, and want its proper nurture, which 
nothing but an excellent education can bestow. In 
this case he is depraved by the public example, 
the assemblies of the people, the courts of jus- 
tice, the theatres, that inspire it with false opin- 
ions, terrify it with false infamy, or elevate it 
with false applause ; and remember, that extra- 
ordinary vices and extraordinary virtues are 
equally the produce of a vigorous mind : little 
souls are alike incapable of the one and the other. 
If you have ever met with the portrait sketched 
out by Plato, you will know it again : for my 
part, to my sorrow I have had that happiness. 
I see the principal features, and I foresee the 
dangers with a trembling anxiety. But enough of 
this, I return to your letter. It proves at least, 
that in the midst of your new gaieties I still hold 
some place in your memory, and, what pleases 
me above all, it has an air of undissembled sin- 
cerity. Go on, my best and amiable friend, to 



W^t ^inmti 299 

shew me your heart simply and without the 
shadow of disguise, and leave me to weep over 
it, as I now do, no matter whether from joy or 
sorrow. 

ISOCRATES 

[To Norton Nicholh, from Cambridge, April 14, 1770] 

... It would be strange if I should blame you 
for reading Isocrates : I did so myself twenty years 
ago, and in an edition at least as bad as yours, ne 
Panegyric k,^ The De Pace^ Areopagitica^ and Advice 
to Philips are by far the noblest remains we have 
of this writer, and equal to most things extant 
in the Greek tongue : but it depends on your 
judgment to distinguish between his real and oc- 
casional opinion of things, as he directly con- 
tradicts in one place what he has advanced in 
another ; for example, in the Panathenaic and 
the De Pace^ Scc.^ on the naval power of Ath- 
ens : the latter of the two is undoubtedly his 
own undisguised sentiment. . . . 

THE MINSTREL 

[To James Beattie\ 

Pembroke Hall, July 2, 1770. 

I rejoice to hear that you are restored to a 
better state of health, to your books, and to your 



300 ^t\tttion& from tlje tlettew 

muse once again. That forced dissipation and ex- 
ercise we are obliged to fly to as a remedy, when 
this frail machine goes wrong, is often almost as 
bad as the distemper we would cure; yet I too 
have been constrained of late to pursue a like 
regimen, on account of certain pains in the head 
(a sensation unknown to me before), and of 
great dejection of spirits. This, Sir, is the only 
excuse I have to make you for my long silence, 
and not (as perhaps you may have figured to 
yourself) any secret reluctance I had to tell you 
my mind concerning the specimen you so kind- 
ly sent me of your new Poem. On the contrary, 
if I had seen anything of importance to disap- 
prove, I should have hastened to inform you, 
and never doubted of being forgiven. The truth 
is, I greatly like all I have seen, and wish to see 
more. The design is simple, and pregnant with 
poetical ideas of various kinds, yet seems some- 
how imperfect at the end. Why may not young 
Edwin, when necessity has driven him to take 
up the harp, and assume the profession of a 
Minstrel, do some great and singular service to 
his country ? (what service I must leave to your 
invention) such as no General, no Statesman, 
no Moralist could do without the aid of music, 
inspiration, and poetry. This will not appear an 
improbability in those early times, and in a char- 



turtle ^iMtxtl 301 

acter then held sacred, and respected by all na- 
tions. Besides, it will be a full answer to all the 
Hermit has said, when he dissuaded him from 
cultivating these pleasing arts ; it will shew their 
use, and make the best panegyric of our favourite 
and celestial science. And lastly (what weighs 
most with me), it will throw more of action, 
pathos, and interest into your design, which al- 
ready abounds in reflection and sentiment. As to 
description, I have always thought that it made 
the most graceful ornament of poetry, but never 
ought to make the subject. Your ideas are new, 
and borrowed from a mountainous country, the 
only one that can furnish truly picturesque 
scenery. Some trifles in the language or versi- 
fication you will permit me to remark. . . . 

I will not enter at present into the merits of 
your Essay on Truths because I have not yet giv- 
en it all the attention it deserves, though I have 
read it through with pleasure; besides I am 
partial, for I have always thought David Hume 
a pernicious writer, and believe he has done as 
much mischief here as he has in his own country. 
A turbid and shallow stream often appears to our 
apprehensions very deep. A professed sceptic can 
be guided by nothing but his present passions 
(if he has any) and interests; and to be masters of 
his philosophy we need not his books or advice, 



302 g>election0 from t^ie tletter^ 

for every child is capable of the same thing, with- 
out any study at all. Is not that naivete and 
good humour, which his admirers celebrate in 
him, owing to this, that he has continued all 
his days an infant, but one that has unhappily 
been taught to read and write ? That childish 
nation, the French, have given him vogue and 
fashion, and we, as usual, have learned from them 
to admire him at second hand. 



FROISSART, ETC. 

\To Norton Nicholls, from Cambridge, January 26, 1 771] 

... I rejoice you have met with Froissart: 
he is the Herodotus of a barbarous age : had he 
but had the luck of writing in as good a language, 
he might have been immortal ! His locomotive 
disposition (for then there was no other way of 
learning things), his simple curiosity, his religious 
credulity, were much like those of the old Gre- 
cian. Our ancestors used to read the Afort d* 
Arthur^ Amadis de Gaul^ and Froissart, all alike, 
that is, they no more suspected the good faith of 
the former than they did of the latter, but took 
it all for history. When you have tant chevauche 
as to get to the end of him, there is Monstrelet 
waits to take you up, and will set you down at 



Philip de Comines ; but previous to all these, you 
should have read Villehardouin and Joinville. I 
do not think myself bound to defend the character 
of even the best of kings. Pray slash them, and 
spare not. . . . 



THE MINSTREL 

[To James Beattie] 

Cambridge, March 8, 1771. 

The Minstrel came safe to my hands, and I 
return you my sincere thanks for so acceptable 
a present. In return, I shall give you my undis- 
guised opinion of him, as he proceeds, without 
considering to whom he owes his birth, and some- 
times without specifying my reasons ; either be- 
cause they would lead me too far, or because I 
may not always know what they are myself. 

I think we should wholly adopt the language 
of Spenser's time or wholly renounce it. You say, 
you have done the latter; but, in effect, you rc- 
l2i\n far ed^ forth ^ meed^ wight ^ ween^ gaude^ shene^ 
in sooth^ aye^ eschew^ &c.; obsolete words, at least 
in these parts of the island, and only known to 
those that read our ancient authors, or such as 
imitate them. 

St. 2, V. 5. The obstreperous trump of fame 



304 ^elettionsf from tje tlectersf 

hurts my ear, though meant to express a jarring 
sound. 

St. 3, V. 6. And from his bending^ &c., the 
grammar seems deficient ; yet as the mind easily 
fills up the ellipsis, perhaps it is an atticism, and 
not inelegant. 

St. 4, and ult. Pensions^ posts ^ and praise, I 
cannot reconcile myself to this, nor to the whole 
following stanza ; especially the plaister of thy 
hair. 

Surely the female hearty &c., St. 6. The thought 
is not just. We cannot justify the sex from the 
conduct of the Muses, who are only females by 
the help of Greek mythology ; and then, again, 
how should they bow the knee in the fane of a 
Hebrew or Philistine devil? Besides, I am the 
more severe, because it serves to introduce what 
I most admire. 

St. 7. Rise^sons of harmony ^&cc. This is charm- 
ing; the thought and the expression. I will not 
be so hypercritical as to add, but it is lyrical^ and 
therefore belongs to a different species of poetry. 
Rules are but chains, good for little, except when 
one can break through them ; and what is fine 
gives me so much pleasure, that I never regard 
what place it is in. 

St. 8, 9, 10. All this thought is well and 
freely handled, particularly. Here peaceful are the 



vales^ &c. Know thine own worthy &c. Canst thou 
forego^ &c. 

St. II. O, ^^w; r^wx/ /^(9« renounce^ &c. But 
this, of all others, is my favourite stanza. It is 
true poetry ; it is inspiration ; only (to shew it is 
mortal) there is one blemish ; the word garniture 
suggesting an idea of dress, and, what is worse, 
of French dress. 

St. ^12. Very well. Prompting th* ungenerous 
wish^ &c. But do not say rambling muse ; wan^ 
dering^ or devious^ if you please. 

St. 13. J nation f am' d^ he. I like this compli- 
ment to your country ; the simplicity, too, of the 
following narrative ; only in st. 1 7 the words art^ 
less and simple are too synonymous to come so 
near each other. 

St. 18. And yet poor Edwin^ &c. This is all 
excellent, and comes very near the level of st. 1 1 
in my esteem ; only, perhaps, And some believed 
him mad^ falls a little too flat, and rather below 
simplicity. 

St. 21. Jh^ no! By the way, this sort of in- 
terjection is rather too' frequent with you, and 
will grow characteristic, if you do not avoid it. 

In that part of the poem which you sent me 
before, you have altered several little particulars 
much for the better. 

St. 34. I believe I took notice before of this 



' 3o6 ^riection0 from ttie timers 

excess of alliteration. Long^ loaded^ loud^ lament, 
lonely^ lighted, lingering^ listening; though the 
verses are otherwise very good, it looks like 
affectation. 

St. 36,37,38. Sure you go too far in length- 
ening a stroke of Edwin's character and disposi- 
tion into a direct narrative, as of a fact. In the 
meantime, the poem stands still, and the reader 
grows impatient. Do you not, in general, indulge 
a little too much in description and reflection? 
This is not my remark only, I have heard it ob- 
served by others; and I take notice of it here, 
because these are among the stanzas that might 
be spared; they are good, nevertheless, and 
might be laid by, and employed elsewhere to 
advantage. 

St. 42. Spite of what I have just now said, 
this digression pleases me so well, that I cannot 
spare it. 

St. 46, v. ult. The infuriate flood. I would 
not make new words without great necessity ; it 
is very hazardous at best. 

St. 49, 50, 51,52. All this is very good; but 
medium and incongruous^ being words of art, lose 
their dignity in my eyes, and savour too much of 
prose. I would have read the last line — " Pre- 
sumptuous child of dust, be humble and be wise." 
But, on second thoughts, perhaps — ^^For thou art 



tETlje ^inmtl 307 

but of dust" — is better and more solemn, from 
its simplicity. 

St. 53. Where dark ^ Sec. You return again to 
the charge. Had you not said enough before? 

St. 54. N^or was this ancient dame^ &c. Con- 
sider, she has not been mentioned for these six 
stanzas backward. 

St. 56, V. 5. The vernal day. With us it rarely 
thunders in the spring, but in the summer fre- 
quently. 

St. Sl-i 58. Very pleasing, and has much the 
rhythm and expression of Milton in his youth. 
The last four lines strike me less by far. 

St. 59. The first five lines charming. Might 
not the mind of your conqueror be checked and 
softened in the mid-career of his successes by 
some domestic misfortune (introduced by way of 
episode, interesting and new, but not too long), 
that Edwin's music and its triumphs may be a 
little prepared, and more consistent with prob- 
ability ? 

I am happy to hear of your successes in an- 
other way, because I think you are serving the 
cause of human nature, and the true interest of 
mankind. Your book is read here too, and with 
just applause. 



I^otesi 



Ph^do 

3, 2. Panaetius the Stoick: a philosopher of Rhodes (c. 
B.C. i8o — c. B.C. III). At Rome, where he lived between 
156 and 129, he did much to refine and polish the Stoic teaching. 

4, 3. dif]d'r], etc.: '*a certain marvelous mixture of pleasure 
and of j)ain." Phado^ 59 a. 

5, 24. *Ev Pi^, etc.: "in life is the beginning of death" j 
the second clause repeats the thought. 

5, 28. Td [i,€v, etc.: "some things I have said of which I 
am not altogether confident," Trans. Jowett. 

6, 8. Dacier : Andre Dacier (1651-1722), an industrious 
classical scholar, translator of Horace, Longinus, some of Plato's 
Dialogues^ and Plutarch's Lives. He entered the French Academy 
in 1695. Cf. Asse in La Grande Encyclopedie. " Dacier has been 
forced to prove his Plato a very good Christian, before he ventures 
to translate h'tm^ and has so far complied with the taste of the age, 
that his whole book is overrun with texts of Scripture, and the no- 
tion of pre-existence supposed to be stolen from two verses out of 
the Prophets." Addison to Charles Montagu, fi-om Paris, Oct. 14, 
1699. 

Essay on the Philosophy of Lord Bolingbroke 

7, I. Lord Bolingbroke : Henry St. John, Viscount Bo- 
lingbroke (1678-1751), was a statesman, orator, and voluminous 
author. For some years he lived in France, and his thought, that 
of a pronounced Deist, may have been influenced by Voltaire. He 
has been censured for a lack of sincerity and honest purpose and for 
an unscrupulous ambition. His philosophical views can scarcely be 
called profound. 

8, 13. Dr. Clarke: Samuel Clarke (1675-1729), theo- 



310 ipote0 

logical writer and controversialist, rector of St. James's, Westmin- 
ster, and Boyle Lecturer in 1704-5. " His work," says Stephen 
(D. N. B.y X. 443), "is the principal literary result of the specu- 
lative movement of which the contemporary English deism was one 
result. . . . He was the founder of the so-called ' intellectual ' 
school, of which Wollaston and Price were the chief English fol- 
lowers, which deduced the moral law from a logical necessity." 

8, 13. Hvid. 26th : this corresponds, apparently, to Proposi- 
tion viil. of u4 Discourse Concerning the Being and Attributes of 
God {Works, hon^oTiy 1738, ii. 543): "That the Self-Existent 
and Original Cause of all things, must be an Intelligent Being." 

10, 24. Mr. Wollaston : William Wollaston(i66o-i724), 
of Sidney-Sussex College, Cambridge (M.A. 1681), who, inheriting 
a cousin's ** noble estate," settled in London in 1 689 and never after- 
ward passed a night out of his house. He wrote much on philo- 
logical and ecclesiastical subjects. The Religion of Nature Delineated, 
his most important work, was privately printed in 1722 and pub- 
lished in 1724; it went through many editions. *' Thirty years' 
profound meditation," says Leslie Stephen, '* had convinced Wol- 
laston that the reason why a man should abstain from breaking 
his wife's head was, that it was a way of denying that she was his 
wife. . . . It is a repetition of Clarke's theory of morality." 
English Thought in the Eighteenth Century, i. 130. 

11, 22. immovable: G. immoveable. 

Essay on Norman Architecture 

13, I. characteristics: G. , like others of his time, spelled 
this and most other -ic words with k : -ick{s) ; so ethick, topic k, 
Sapphick, politicks. Norman : the earliest instance of the word in 
this sense in the Neiv Eng. Dictionary is dated 1797, in the EncycL 
Brit., 3d ed. The style is now, of course, known as the Roman- 
esque, sometimes as the Round-arched Gothic. Cf. Sturgis, Euro- 
pean Architecture, p. 235, n. 

13, 2. Sir Christopher Wren : lived 1632-1723. Be- 
sides St. Paul's he designed about fifty churches in London, theShel- 
donian Theatre at Oxford, the Greenwich Observatory, the Chel- 
sea Hospital, the Library of Trinity College, Cambridge, the 



i^otesf 311 

College of Physicians in Warwick Lane, London, the Chapel of 
Queen's College, Oxford, etc, His later works show an increasing 
appreciation of Gothic ; but he lived before the days of exact his- 
torical knowledge of architecture. Saxon : more properly applied 
to the style in vogue in England before the Conquest. For the char- 
acteristics of Saxon architecture proper, see EncycL. Brit.j 9th ed., 
ii. 425. 

13, 9. emperors : G. emperours. 

13, 22. Normans: settled in France early in the tenth cen- 
tury J acquired Normandy about 911. 

14, 15. this kind of architecture: Rickman [An At- 
tempt to Discriminate the Styles of Architecture in England, 1 81 7) 
classified as follows : Anglo-Saxon, to 1066 ; Norman, 1066-1189J 
Early English, 11 89-1 307. 

15, 3. aisles : G. here and elsewhere, ailes. 

16, 26. old St. Paul's : burnt in the great fire of 1666 ; 
rebuilt by Sir Christopher Wren 1675— 1710. 

19, I. nebule: the earliest instance of this word in the New 
Eng. Diet, is quoted from Nicholson's Practical Builder, 1823. 
Gray may possibly have coined the word, and does not (cf. N. E. D.) 
misapprehend the meaning of nebule. 

19, 26. King Ethelbald: king of the Mercians, d. 757. 
Visited his kinsman the hermit Guthlac at Crowland. Though of 
immoral life, he gave much to the Church. 

19, 27. King Osric : Gray has apparently here made a 
slip. He is thinking of the shrine of Osric, king of the Northum- 
brians (d. 729), erectedat Gloucester ( on the north side of the pres- 
bytery) by Abbot Malvern in the time of Henry VIH. Osric is said 
to have founded the first religious establishment here. Cf. H. J. 
Masse, The Cathedral Church of Gloucester, London, 1900, pp. 
59 f.; J. Britton, The History and Antiquities of the Abkey, and 
Cathedral Church of Gloucester, London, 1836, p. 66. Robert 
Courthose : Duke of Normandy (1054-1134), eldest son 
of the Conqueror. Called Curthose on account of his short, fat 
figure. The chest, of the fifteenth century, is of Irish bog-wood j 
the figure may be of the 12th. The effigy was demolished by the 
Puritans in 1641, but the pieces were kept by Sir Humphrey Tracy 
of Stanway and after the Restoration replaced at his expense. 



312 0Ott& 

20, lO. five and thirty years : the choir and transepts, 
as well as the three stages of the central tower and the six central 
bays of the nave except the clerestory, were probably finished 
1155—75. The clerestory of the nave, the west bays of the nave, 
and the west front were probably built 1177-93. Cf. Bond, Got Ate 
jirchitecture in England^ p. 651. 

20, 13. surpassed in beauty: G., it thus appears, was 
one of the earliest admirers of Gothic. On the use of ** Gothic " 
for what was crude and barbaric, cf. G. Liidtke, Geschichte des 
WortCi *' Gothhch " im 18. und ig. yahrhundert, Strassburg, 
1903 ; Neiv Eng. Dict.^ s. v. Gothic; C. H. Moore, De-velop- 
ment and Character of Gothic Architecture^ ad ed., 1 899, chap. 1. 

21. Pp. 21-H7 have been grouped in previous editions under 
the head of Metrum, with the following quotation (in Greek) 
from Longinus' Fragmenta, 3, sect. I, e Cod. Ms. Paris [2881]: 
* ' Whether the doctrine of metres is new, or an invention of the 
ancient Muse, in either case it will be held good. For if it is an- 
cient, it will be venerable for its age ; and if it is modern, it will 
be the more agreeable.** 

Observations on English Metre 

21, I. Mr. Urry: John Urry(i 666-1 71 5), of Christ Church, 
Oxford, in 1711 began work upon an edition which was published 
in 1 72 1. As a scholar Urry was much overrated. Cf. Miss Ham- 
mond's Bibliogr. Manual of Chaucer, pp. 128 ff. } Lounsbury, 
Studies in Chaucer , i. 283 ff. 

21, II. great inequalities: cf. Gray's note on Lydgate's 
metre, p. 94, n. i. 

21, 25. Francesco [da] Barberino: lived 1264-1348; 

wrote, among other things, // reggimento e costumi di donna and / 
documenti d^yimore, a moral encyclo^ediz. Boccacclo : G. here 
and elsewhere, Boccacio. 

21, 26. Crescimbeni : Giovan-Maria Crcscimbeni (1663- 
1 728) became a well-known Roman poet and savant ; wrote sev- 
eral works on literary history. His Commentarii intorno alia volgar 
poesia storia^ much used by Gray, appeared at Rome in 1 702-1 1 
in 5 volumes, quarto. 



22, 2. always prefixed : usually, but not always J cf. 
Sievers, 0. E. Grammar^ trans. Cook, 3d ed., sec. 366, and 
Wright, 0. E. Grammar^ sec. 488. 

22,8. Dr. Hickes: George Hickes (i 642-1 71 5), titular 
bishop of Thetford, published his Anglo-Saxon and Moeso-Gothic 
Grammar at Oxford in 1689. A 2d ed. formed part of his cele- 
brated Linguarum •veterum septentrionalium thesaurus grammatico- 
criticus et archaologicus, Oxford, 1703—5, folio. 

22, 16. Somner's : William Somner (1598-1669), lin- 
guist and antiquarian, published his Dictionarium Saxonico-Latino- 
Angl'tcum at Oxford in 1659, 2 parts, folio; 2d ed., with additions 
by Thomas Benson, 1701, 8vo. 

22, 18. towards the end: T. and C, v. 1793-9- 

22, 25. in another place: House of Fame, 1096-8. 

22, 33. Chronicle of Troy : Dr. Henry Bergen is print- 
ing an edition of the Troy-Book (E. E. T. S., Extra Scries xcvii, 
cm, etc.). 

23, 9. Cimbrick tongue : Cymric properly, of course, means 
"Welsh"; in Gray's time there was much confusion between 
Scandinavian and Cehic. Cf p. 239. See also Farley, Scandinavian 
Influence in the English Romantic Mo-vementy pp. 202 f. 

23> ^^' greipan: O. E. grlpan, Old Saxon ^r7/>a«, Gothic 
greipan. 

24, 14. WOrdis : Northern dialect form of O. E. ivordes. 
25,21. Art of Poetry: publishedanonymously in 1589, by 

Richard Field, "dwelling in the black-Friers, neere Ludgate." 

25, 23. "Chaucer, Lydgate," etc.: a collation with 
Arber's reprint shows only slight variants : 23, these Cesures ; 24, 
seldome; 27, wordes ; 26, 2, maner; li, poesie; 27, 2, should 
be touched. 

25, 26. riding Rhyme: G. Ryme. " This term was applied 
to ' lo-syllable couplets ' like those of Chaucer's Canterbury Pil- 
grims, as distinguished from statelier quatrains and stanzas. For long 
such couplets were considered unfit for serious themes — an idea in 
Gray's time hardly comprehensible, though he himself wisely pre- 
ferred quatrains for his famous Elegy.''* T. S. Omond, English 
Metrists in the i8th and igth Centuries, 1 907, p. 20, n. I. 

26, II. Ryme Dogrell: the obvious connection with dog 



in the sense of "bastard, dog-rhyme " is suggested by the Neiv 
Eng. Diet.; but the origin of the word is still to be traced. 

26, 12. Alderman Fabian: Robert Fabyan (d. 15 13); his 

Concordance of Histories, published by Pynson in 1 5 1 6 as The Neiv 
Chronicles of England and France, began with the arrival of Brutus 
and extended to his own day. Only a little of it is in verse. 

27, 3- Then Puttenham: this quotation really occurs about 
a page farther back in the same chapter. 

27, 5- in the middle: inexactly quoted. Arber: In a verse 
of twelve Billables the Cesure ought to fall right upon the sixt syl- 
lable. 

27, 24. of pleasure : here Gray omits five and a half lines 
of Puttenham ; cf. Arber, p. 86. 

31, 14. Spenser: on his use of the caesura cf. Schipper, 
Engl. Metrik, 1888, ii, 188 f., 202. 

31, 15. Milton: cf. W. Thomas, De epico apud Joannem 
Miltonium "versUy Lutetiae Parisiorum, 1901, pp. 64— yij Schipper, 
op. cit.y ii. 28 ff., 344 ff.; Corson, A Primer of English Verst^ 
1892, pp. 193 ff. ; Robert Bridges, Milton'' s Prosody y 2d ed., Ox- 
ford, 1893, pp. 23 ff. 

32, I. A monke ther -was : Ellesmere Ms., A monkthcr 
was, a fair for the maistrie. Pro/., 165. 

32, 4. many a : Ellesmere Ms., fful many a. 

33,5. Nomore of this: C. T., B 2109-12. 

34, 8. Bevis: ed. by Kolbing, E. E. T. S., Extra Series, 
1885—94. Cf. M. Deutschbein, Studien zur Sagengeschichte Eng- 
lands, i., Halle, 1906, pp. 1 81-21 3. Southampton: after 
this Puttenham adds : Guy of Warwicke. 

34, 32. the same story: cf. Leo Jordan, Uber Boeve de 
Hansrone, Halle, 1908. 

35, I. and historical: Arber's ed., or. 

35> *• on purpose: Arber's ed. , purposely for recreation. 
35, 4, bride-ales: after this Arber's ed. has and. 

The Measures of Verse 

39, 17. The Death of Zoroas: by Nicholas Grimaldj 
Arber reprint, pp. 120-3. 



^om 315 

39, 19. The Death of Cicero: also by Grimald ; Arber 

repr., pp. 123-5. 

40, 12. Man of Honour: now called the Man of Law. 
40, 17. Flower and Leaf: ascribed by Skeat {Athen.f 

March 14, 1903, p. 340) to Margaret Neville, daughter of the 
Earl of Warwick ; others have opposed this view. Cf. Miss Ham- 
mond, Chaucer J a Bibliogr. Manual, pp. 423 f. 

40, 17. Assembly of Ladies : determined by internal evi- 
dence to be by the author of The Floiver and the Leaf; cf. Skeat, 
Chaucerian and Other Pieces, 1897, pp. Ixii fF. ; Miss Hammond, 
op. cit.j pp. 408 f. 

40, 18. Complaint of the Black Knight: by John 

LydgStc. 

40, 19. Lamentation of Magdalen: ed. by Bertha M. 
Skeat as a Zurich diss., Cambridge, 1897. She thinks the author 
was a young lady, probably a nun. 

To this list add Chaucer's Compleynte unto Pite and the introduc- 
tion to his Compleynt of Mars. 

41, 4. Remedy of Love : formerly printed with Chaucer'i 
works j rejected from the Chaucer canon by Tyrwhitt. Cf Skeat, 
The Chaucer Canon, p. 113. 

41, 8. Epistle to Henry the 4th : often called The 

Praise of Peace. 

41, II. Ballade of our Lady: in MacCracken's list 
(^The Lydgate Canon, p. x) entitled Ballade at the Re-verence of 
Our Lady H^ene of Mercy ; cf. Skeat, Chaucerian and Other 
Pieces, pp. xlvi f. 

41, 15. Ballades, &C. : including the Ballad of Good Coun- 
sel or Wicked Tongue {Chaucerian and Other Pieces, pp. 285—90), 
and Warning Men to Beivare of Deceitful Women {ib., pp. 295 f.), 
the Lydgatian authorship of which MacCracken rejects. As- 
semble de Dyeus : The Assembly of Gods, ed. by Oscar L. 
Triggs, Uni'v. of Chicago English Studies, \., 1895. Assigned by 
Wynkyn de Worde and others to Lydgate. MacCracken rejects 
Lydgatian authorship, The Lydgate Canon, pp. xxxii f. 

Gray does not know, for example, of Lydgate' s Horse, Goose^ 
and Sheep (ed. M. Degenhart, Erlangen, 1900)} Fabula duorum 
mercatorum (ed. G. Schleich, Strassburg, 1897) j The Flour of 



3i6 ^tt& 

Curtesye {Chaucerian and Other Pieces^ pp. 266-74). Another 
poem, To My Soverain Lady [ih., pp. 281—84), assigned to Lyd- 
gate by Skeat, is rejected from the Lydgate canon by MacCracken, 
p. xlv. 

42, 5. To these might be added Henryson's Testament of Cres- 
seid {^Chaucerian and Other Pieces^ pp. 327—46), and The Court 
of Lo've {ii>., pp. 409-47). 

42, 8. Hymn on the Nativity: the part properly known 
as the Hymn is not in this metre. 

42, 13. in some Envoys : now, I believe, no longer as- 
cribed to Chaucer. 

42, 23. Belle Dame sans mercy : trans, from the French 

by Sir Richard Ros (^Chaucerian and Other Pieces, pp. 299-326). 
The first five and the last four stanzas have seven lines each. 

42, 25. Add Chaucer's Former Age, Fortune, Ballade to Rose' 
mounde, etc. 

43» 3- Some Poems of Chaucer: Gray probably alludes 

to Hoccleve's To the Knights of the Garter {^Chaucerian and Other 
Pieces, pp. 233-35), ^"^^ Scogan'siWora/ Balade {ib., pp. 237-44). 

43, 17. Add Chaucer's Compleynt of Mars, main part. 

44, 8. Cuckoo and Nightingale : probably by Srr 
Thomas Clanvowe 5 cf. Miss Hammond's Chaucer Manual, pp. 
420 f 

47, II. Chaucer's Compleynt unto His Lady, ten lines, 
aabaabcddc, is not provided for in Gray's scheme. 

49, 16. Story of Thebes : in heroic couplets. 

49, 19. Romaunce of Merlin : ed. as Arthour and Merlin 
by E. Kolbing, Leipzig, 1890. 

49, 20. "Welsh: G. here and elsewhere, Welch. 

49, 25. wherein he mentions: 11. 85-89. Manning's 
trans, was ed. by Furnivall in the Rolls Series, No. 87, London, 
1887. different kinds of verse : on the varieties of rhyme 
see Schipper, *' Fremde Metra," Paul's Grundriss der germ. Phih- 
logie, 2. Aufl., ii. 224 f. 

50, II. Plowman's Tale: no longer ascribed to Chaucer; 
cf. Miss Hammond, Chaucer Manual, pp. 444 ff. 

50, 17. Add Lydgatc's Doubleness {^Chaucerian and Other 
Pieces, pp. 291-94). 



0otti 317 

50, 26. Couwe: in Manning ryme couwee, "tailed rhyme." 
Though his etymology is wrong, Gray is right about Sir Thopas. 
There is no connection with cynvydd ; cf. D. S. Evans's Dic- 
tionary , 1893. 

53, 7. The Life of St. Margaret: printed by Hickes, 
Thesaurus, i. 224 ff., from a ms. (since lost) in Trinity College, 
Cambridge ; reprinted byHorstmann, Ae. Legenden, N. F., 1881, 
pp. 489 fF. Dates from the first half of the 13th century. Gray 
quotes some lines (1-8) on pp. 62 f. 

53, 10. Chronicle of Robert of Gloucester: really 
combines alexandrines with septenaries in what Gascoigne called 
** poulter's measure "5 cf. Gummere, Handbook of Poetics , p. 
185. Peter Langtoft's Chronicle: Manning's translation 
is in octosyllabic couplets ; cf. Oskar Boerner, D:e Sprache Roberd 
Mannyngs of Brunne, Halle, 1904, pp. 15 ff. 

53, 12. took its name : the origin is still obscure j cf. the 
Neiv. Eng. Diet. 

53, 16. Lambert li Cors: should be li Tors, /. e., leTort. 
Wrote toward 1 1 70 ; cf, P. Meyer, Alexandre le Grand dans la 
litterature fran^aise du moyen agCj Paris, 1886, ii. 214 ff. The 
Roman was edited by Heinrich Michelant (Stuttgart, 1846), 
Alexandre de Paris : Alexandre de Bernay. 

53, 24. trest : a better reading is traist. 

54, 16. Tale of Gamelin: no longer ascribed to Chaucer. 
54, 29. thus is written: cf. the note to 53, 10, above. 
54> 33- Semi-Saxon moral poem : the Poema MoraUy 

which dates from about 11 70. Gray obviously meant ^^ before 
Chaucer's time." See p. 63. 

55> ^3- Gill Morrice: Childe Maurice, in Child's Bal- 
lads, ii. 263. Glasgerion: in Child's Ballads, ii. 136 ff. 
Launcelot du Lake : in Percy's Reliques of Antient English 
Poetry, An early poem of the same name, in heroic couplets, was 
ed. by Skeat for the E. E. T. S., No. 6, 1865. 

Observations on the Pseudg-Rhythmus 

57. Pseudo-rhythmus: rhyme. 

57, 2. has observed: in his essay Of Poetry; Werksy 
1814, iii, 425 f 



3i8 0om 

57, 8. Taliessin : now regarded as mythical, cf. 61, 10 ; 
formerly reputed to be the author of 77 poems j cf. Skene, Four 
Ancient Books of Wales ; Diet. Nat. Biog. Benbelrdh : properly 
Benbeirdd, an epithet meaning ** chief of bards." The only poets 
to whom it was applied were Aneurin and Taliesin (cf. T. Stephens, 
Literature of the Cymry, 1849, p. 124). Possibly Gray wrote 
"Taliesin ben beirdh " j if not, we must understand the second 
poet of his trio to be Aneurin. For this information I am indebted 
to H. I. B., Notes and ^eries, loth Ser. , xi. 236. 

57, 9. Lomarkk: Llywarch Hen, "the Aged" (c. 496- 
c. 646) ; cf. Skene, Four Anc. Books, i. 569 ff. ; Diet. Nat. Biog. 

57, II. the Anglo-Saxons : on rhyme in O. E. literature 
cf. Kluge, " Zur Geschichte des Reimes im Altgermanischen," 
Paul-Braune, Beitrage, ix. 422-50, 1884; ^- Hoffmann, Reim- 
formeln im Westgermanischen, 1886, pp. 73 ff. 

58, I. any rhyming verses : Gray had of course never 
seen the O. E. Rhyming Poem in the Exeter Book, Grein-Wiilker, 
Bibliothek der ags. Poesie, 'in. 156-63 ; cf. Wiilker, Grundnss 
zur Geschichte der ags. Litteratur, pp. 215 ff. , Kluge in Paul- 
Braune, Beitrage, ix. 440-2, 1 884, Ten Brink, Early Eng. Lit- 
erature, trans. Kennedy, pp. 85 f. There are also apparently inten- 
tional rhymes in Cynewulf's Elene, 11. 114 f., 1237 ff., which 
dates from the eighth century. 

58, 9. Wormius : Ole Worm (1588-1654), professor suc- 
cessively of pedagogy, Greek, physics, and medicine at Copenhagen 
(1613-54). 

58, 15. sometimes strictly: the laws of O. E. metre are 
now much better understood : cf Schipper, Englische Metrik ; E. 
Sievers, *' Altgermanische Metrik," Paul's Grundriss der germ. 
Philologie, 2. Aufl., ii. 1-38. 

59, 2. fragment of Caedmon : Caedmon's Hymn^ Grein- 
Wiilker, Bihl. der ags. Prosa, iv. 484. 

59, 5. Harmony of the Evangelists : Ms. Cotton Cali- 
gula A VII, fol. 1 1 r. — 175 V. Now called The Heliand. Hickes 
printed some extracts in his Anglo-Saxon and Moeso-Gothic Gram- 
mar, p. 189, and in his Grammatica Franco-Theotisca, chap. 22. 
Dates from 822-40 ; cf Paul, Grundr.y ii. 93 ff. Ed. by Sievers, 
1878. 



59, 14. Paraphrase of the Gospels : dedicated about 

865 to King Louis the German and to Abp. Liutbert of Mentz. 
There are now many editions. On Otfrid's metre see Sievers, 
** Die Entstehung des deutschen Reimverses," Paul-Braunc, Bet- 
trage, xiii. 121-66, 1888. 

60, 18 Franco-Theotische and Anglo-Saxon : 

not identical, but kindred dialects ; cf. Paul's Grundriss der germ. 
Philologie, 2. Aufl., i. 651 f., 785 ff., 928, and the map opp. p. 
780. 

60, 31. no verses extant: the Cantilena of St. Eulalia 
dates from the end of the ninth century j cf. P. Toynbee, Speciment 
of Old French^ pp. 2 fF. 

60,, 34. "Wistace : now generally called Wace. His Brut 
was ed. by Le Roux de Lincy, 2 vols., Rouen, 1836—38. Brutf 
originally from the name of Brutus, the great-grandson of Aeneas, 
came to mean in Welsh a *' chronicle, history." 

60, 36. the Provencal writers : see Stimming, in 
Grober's Grundriss der romanischen Philologie, 1897, ii. 2. I fF. 

62, 2. Gothic : we should now say Germanic or Teutonic^ re- 
serving Gothic for the name of one dialect. 

62, 27. eches : probably for e ches ** he chose," O. E. ciat. 

63, 9 ff. Ic am elder: Poema Morale, cf. the note on 54, 33. 
63, 24. Rada: O. L. G. rad, O. E. rad. 

65, 3. Vision of Peirce Plowman : edited by Skeat, 
E. E.T. S., 1867-84, and for the Clarendon Press, 1886. On 
the metre see K. Luick, " Geschichte der heimische Mctra," 
Paul's Grundriss, 2. Aufl., ii. 145 ff. 

65, 16. the oaths: sworn on Feb. 14, 842; sec Brachet- 
Toynbee, A Hist. Grammar of the French Language^ Oxford, 
1896, pp. 16-17; Toynbee, Specimens of Old French^ Oxford, 
1892, pp. I f. 

65, 27. The Proven9al : see Darmesteter-Hartog, A His- 
torical French Grammar, London, 1 8 99, pp. 24 ff. 

66, I. Robert Lang^land: modern scholars until very re- 
cently have spoken of this author as William Langland. Professor 
Manly has lately {Modern Philology, iii. 359-366) combated the 
theory that Piers the Ploivman was written by one man ; cf. his 
articles in The Cambridge History of English Literature, ii. I— 41, 



320 il^otetf 

1908, and Modern Philology^ vii, 83-144. His view is supported 
by Theophilus D. Hall in Mod. Lang, Rev., iv. 1 fF. and Modern 
Philology, vii. 327 f. The older view is supported by Jusserand in 
Modern P/iiIo/ogy,vi. 2ji-'^2^, vii. 289-326. Cf. H. Bradley, 
jithenaum, Apr. 21, 1906, and R, W. Chambers, Mod. Lang. 
Rev., y. 1—32. 

66, 3. for instance : the lines quoted correspond to B. ii. 

7-13- 

66, 7. Worthylich: Mathias and the others print ^orth- 
lyith. 

66, 25. altogether in meter: on Langland's metre see 
Skeat, ed. of 1886, ii. IviiifF. ; F. Rosenthal, Die alliterierende en- 
glische Langzei/e im xiv. Jahrhundert, Halle, 1877; Luick, " Die 
englische Stabreimzeile im xiv., xv., u. xvi. jahrhundert," 
Anglia, xi. 429-43. 

67, 7. Death and Life : this and Scottish Field are in the 
celebrated Percy Folio Ms. ed. by Hales and Furnivall in 1867-68. 

67, 12. Thomas Piercy: 1728-82, bishop of Dromorc, 
editor of the Reliques of Antient English Poetry and translator of 
Mallet's Northern Antiquities. 

68,6. P. Huet : Pierre- Daniel Huet (i 630-1 721), bishop 
of Avranches, member of the French Academy, well reputed as a 
mathematician, philosopher, theologian, philologist, and writer of 
Latin and Greek verse. He likewise ascribed the beginnings of 
romance to the Arabs. 

71, 5. De Contemptu Mundi : contains about 3000 lines; 
translated by J. M. Neale, 1851-62, 

71, 6, 14. Bernard: abbot of Cluny 1122-56. G. Benard. 

71, 12- Leonine: the Ne-w Eng. Diet, conjectures that this 
is derived from some Leo (or Leonius) who wrote in the measure, 
and refers to Du Cange's attempt to identify him. 

72, 9. Ubaldino the Florentine: cf the quotation 64, 
18 ff. 

Some Observations on the Use of Rhyme 

73> 3- Tenure of the manor of Cholmerand Danc- 
ing: printed in Thomas Blount's Fragmenta antiquitatis, or An' 
tient Tenures of Land, new ed., York, 1784, pp. 328 ff. 22 lines. 



73, 10. Cholmer: Blount has Chelmcr. Dancing: now 

called Dengy. 

73, II. Paperking: Blount has Peperking. 

74, 7. Ancient Tenures, p. 102: in the ed. of 1784, 
pp. 329 f. 21 lines. 

74, 12. about the age of Henry the Third: Laya- 
mon's Brut is generally dated 1205. It contains 32,242 lines. 
Mss, Cotton Caligula A ix and Otho C xiii, British Museum. 
Ed. by Sir Frederick Madden for the Society of Antiquaries, Lon- 
don, 1847. 

74, 1 7. Lazamon : the % stands for the pothook, roughly 
equivalent to y. 

74f 24. At Sifforde seten: from The Proverbs of Alfred ^ 
cd. by W. W. Skeat, Oxford, 1907. Skeat dates the poem 1205- 
10. Gray read it, as he indicates, in the Spelman copy of Ms. 
Cotton Galba A xix. 

74, 30. near Oxford: rather the Seaford near Newhaven, 
on the south coast of Sussex; cf. Skeat' s note. 

75, 28. the same manuscript volume : Cotton Cali- 
gula A IX. Of this, the Brut occupies fol. 3-194; The Owl and 
the Nightingale, fol. 233r.-246r. 

75, 30. " The Contention of the Owl and Nightin- 
gale " : the latest edition is that of John E. Wells (Boston, 1907), 
who dates the poem 1216-25. 

75» 3''- seven syllables : rather eight or nine. The metre 
is octosyllabic, with or without a final unstressed syllable. Of the 
1794 lines, from 195 to 200 lack the initial unstressed syllable. 

76, I. snwe: Ms. supe, i. e. sivipe, "very." 

76, 3. I herde : Ms. i her de from O. "S.. geheran, "hear." 
76, 7. plait: "debate." stare: Gray is right; it should be 
stare. 

y6, II. other agen other : Ms. Cotton Calig. A ix has 

aifer a^en oper. 

76, 13. V/hole mod : Ms. Cott. wole ; Ms. Jesus Coll. vuelc, 
** evil." 

76, 15. CUSt : "character." 

,76, 19. hure and hure: " at all events." 
76, 23. On Death, etc.: this is the poem Long Life pub- 



322 jpotefif 

iished from two mss. by Morris in his Old Englith Miscellany, 
pp. 156 ff. 

76, 24. Non : Ms. Jesus Coll. 29 reads mon " man." 

77, 4. biwench: bipench <' bethink." 

77, 26. told by Ekkehardus : in his Libri dt casibus 
monaster a Sancti Gailiy cap. 26. This was ed. by G. Meyer von 
Knonau, St. Gallen, 1877. The author is called Elckehard IV. 
He died about 1060. 

78, 18. Ethelbert, King of Kent: lived 552-616. His 

epitaph is : 

Rex ^thelbertus hie clauditur in poliandro; 
Fana pians certus Christo meat absque meandro. 

Quoted by Thomas of Elmham, Historia monasterii S. Augustini 
Cantuariensis, ed. Hardwick, 1858, p. 142. 
78,20. Laurentius: d. 619. His epitaph : 

Hie sacra, Laurenti, sunt signa tui monument! ; 
Tu quoque jucundus pater, antistesque secundus^ 
Pro populo Christi scapulas dorsumque dedisti; 
Artubus hinc laceris multa vibice mederis. 
Quoted by Thomas of Elmham, op. cit., p. 149. 

78, 21. by Weever: John Weever (i 576-1632) of Queen's 
College, Cambridge. His Ancient Funerall Monuments was pub- 
lished in London in 1 63 1 , folio. 

Additional Observations and Conjectures on 
Rhyme 

80, 10. from Walen : JVahn is now derived from O.E. 
wwM- *♦ foreigner," O.H.G. ivalh-^ cf. Low Lat. Volca. 

81, 21. Le"wis Morris: lived 1700-65. His Celtic Re- 
mainsj completed in 1760, was published in 1878 in connection with 
the Archaologia Cambrensis, ed. by Silvan Evans. See the Diet, 
Nat. Biog., xxxix. loi ff. 

83, 16. no rhyme : cf. the note to 58, i. 

83, 19. from their neighbours the Britons: this view 
is now abandoned. 

84, 9. Athelstan's donation: this so-called charter, which 



ipocfflf 323 

dates apparently from the time of Edward II., is printed with a 
translation in the Memorials of Beverley Minster^ ii. 280—7 (Sur- 
tees Society 108, Durham, 1903). 

84* *^- granted to Earl Leofric : Gray apparently means 
by. In memory of the act by which Lady Godiva was said to have 
secured the freedom of Coventry (see Matthew of Westminster, an. 
1057, and Tennyson's Godi-va), pictures of Leofric and Godiva 
were set up in a south window of Trinity Church, Coventry, about 
the time of Richard II, The earl held in his right hand a charter 
on which was written, 

I Luriche for the love of thee 

Doe make Coventre tol-free. 

Dugdale, Monasticon Anglicanum, in. 177, n. k. Leofric was Earl 
of Mercia 1032-57; d. 1057. 

85, 13. fragment of Caedmon: cf. 59, 2. 

Some Remarks on the Poems of John Lydgate 

87, 17. in 1393: for the evidence cf Schick's ed. of The 
Temple of Glas, p. Ixxxvii. 

87,21. Hatfield-Brodhook: now Hatfidd-Broadoak, or 
Hatfield Regis. 

89, II. King Arthur was not dead: this idea survived 
even Gray's own time by at least a century. Cf. Sir J. Rhys, Celtic 
Folklore, Welsh and Manx, ii. 458-64. As late as 1800 Arthur 
was believed in Cornwall to be still living in the form of a chough; 
cf. Edgar MacCuUoch in Notes and S^ueriesy Dec. 24, 1853, **^ 
Ser., viii. 618. 

90, 20. Dares Phrygius: a Trojan priest mentioned by 
Homer [Iliad, v. 9) who was said in the Middle Ages to have 
written a Historia de excidio Troiae, which, together with Dictys 
the Cretan's Ephemeris belli Troiani, forms the basi& of medieval 
romances on the fall of Troy. 

90,27. Gowere: cf. Chaucer's dedication of Troths and 
Criseyde (v. 1856 f ) : 

O moral Gower, this book I directe 
To thee, and to the philosophical Strode. 



324 J^ote0 

Concerning Ralph Strode, the schoolman and poet, who flourished 
in the latter part of the fourteenth century, see Gollancz's article 
in the Diet. Nat. Biog. Gollancz's view that Strode wrote The 
Pearl has not found favor. 

90, 30, Richard Hermite : Richard RoUe de Hampole 
(c. 1290— 1349), the celebrated Yorkshire mystic. The Prick of 
Conscience (9624 lines) was edited by Morris for the Philological 
Society in 1863. 

91, 15. from the original Latin: on this subject see 

Emil Koeppel's Munich dissertation, Laurent s de Premierfait und 
John Lydgates Bearbeitungen von Boccaccios De casibus -virorum 
i/Iustrium, 1885, pp. 37-46. Koeppel concludes that Lydgate knew 
the Latin original, but made very little use of it. For a summary of 
the contents, see Morley, English JVriters, vi. 1 10-14. 

91, 16. Machabrees Daunce of Death : the Dance of 

Death was probably connected with the name of St. Macarius, the 
Egyptian anchorite, through his being represented as teaching the 
emptiness of life and the certainty of death to three youths out 
hunting; cf. Morley, English Writers, vi. 109. 

92, 22. ** long processes ": some of Shakespeare's comic 
characters, e. g., the Nurse in Romeo and Juliet (i. 3. 16-57), re- 
flect this love of leisurely proceeding. Cf. also Edward Biscuit's ac- 
count of the death of Sir Roger de Coverley, The Spectator, Oct. 
2.3, 1 7 12. Professor Raleigh (The English Ncvel, 1894, p. 4) 
speaks of " the ambling monotony of the chanted recitations con- 
cerning Sir Eglamour, Sir Perceval, and Sir Isumbras." Chaucer 
had his laugh at the dreariness of these stories in Sir Thopas. 

93, 26. the father of circumstance : for a recent compre- 
hensive criticism of Homer's style see Croiset-Heffelbower, j4n 
Abridged History of Greek Literature, 1 904, pp. 30 ff. , 45 ff. 

96, 2. our ancient poets so voluminous: MacCracken 
(The Lydgate Canon, London Philological Soc'y, 1908, p. xxvii) 
concedes to Lydgate the authorship of 145,198 lines, mostly verse. 
Cf. Schick, Lydgate's Temple of Glas, 1 891, p. civ. Of Chau- 
cer's works there are extant about 55,150 lines. 

98, 8. owe their first formation: this is true, of course, 
only of the literary speech. 

98, ^^. the nearest to him : Bale says of Lydgate, in his 



jl^tesf 325 

Catalogus: ** Omnium sui temporis in Anglia poetarum, absit inuidia 
dicto, facile primus floruit." Quoted by Schick, Lydgate's Temple 
of G/aSy p. xi, n. i. 

loi, 29. the fragment of Simonides : the Ode on 

Danae, in his De compositione 'verboruniy chap. 26. 

105, 8. upon the -women : cf. his Troy-Book^ iii. 4270- 

4417. 

106, 21. fellows of colleges: Gray here hits at the 
scandal-mongers of his own university. 

no, 8. more frequent in Chaucer: cf. the portrait of 
the Monk in the Prologue. 

Ill, 12. cheerfulness: G. chearfulness. 

111, 29. Doctor Machabree: an amusing mistake of 
Gray's time 5 cf. the note on 91, 16. 

112, 24 ff. Like a Midsomer Rose: also printed by 

Halliwell-Phillipps, The Minor Poems of Lydgate^ London, 1840, 
pp. 22-26, from Ms. Jesus Coll. 56, Cambridge. Cf. MacCracken, 
The Lydgate Canon, p. xix. 

115, I • eight poets : besides Sackville other contributors were 
William Baldwin, George Ferrers, Cavyll, Thomas Phaer, the 
translator of Virgil, John Skelton, Dolman, Thomas Churchyard, 
John Higgins, Thomas Blennerhasset, Michael Drayton, Richard 
Niccols, Francis Segar, and Dingley. Editions appeared in 1559 
(ed. by Baldwin), 1563, 1571, 1574 (ed. by Higgins), 1575 (re- 
issue of Higgins's "First Parte"), 1578 ("The Second Parte," 
expanded by Blennerhasset), 1587 (ed. by Thomas Newton), 1610 
(ed. by Niccols), 1619 (re-issue of the ed. of 1610), and 1815 
(ed. by Joseph Haslewood). 

II5> 7- Where is now : on the ubi suntf formula cf. J. 
W. Bright, M. L. Notes, viii. 94, F. Tupper, Jr., same, pp. 253 f. 

Samuel Daniel 

118, 8. his youth was passed : Daniel lived from 156a 
till 1619. Besides his prose History of England and his masques, 
he wrote little after 1603. 

118, 18. a pedantic admiration : this is perhaps as severe 
an arraignment of the tendency toward classicism as we meet with 
anywhere in Gray's writings. 



3^6 ^oteflf 

1x8, 23. the expectations Spenser had raised: 

And there is a new shepheard late up sprong, 
The which doth all afore him far surpasse: 
Appearing well in that well tuned song 
Which late he sung unto a scornfull lasse. 
Yet doth his trembling Muse but lowly flie, 
As daring not too rashly mount on hight, 
And doth her tender plumes as yet but trie 
In loves soft laies and looser thoughts delight. 
Then rouze thy feathers quickly, Daniell, 
And to what course thou please thy selfe advance; 
But most, me seemes, thy accent will excell 
In tragick plaints and passionate mischance. 

Colin Clouts Come Home Again (1595), U. 416-27. 

The "well tuned song" is Delia ( 1592) ; the last two lines re- 
fer to The Complaint of Rosamond (1592). 

120, II. Marino: Giambattista Marino or Marini (1569- 
1625). His inflated style became known by the name of Marin- 
ism. 

120, 14. Seneca for a model: in his Cleopatra (1594) 
and Philotas (1605). 

Selections from the Letters 

122, I. Richard West : bom in 1716, the son of Richard 
West, playwright and Lord Justice of Ireland, and grandson of Bishop 
Burnet. At Eton he was one of the " Quadruple Alliance " with 
Ashton, Gray, and Walpole, and was called Favonius, He was at 
Christ Church, Oxford, 1 73 5-8, then began to read law at the Inner 
Temple, but afterward thought of going into the army ; ill health 
prevented him and he died of consumption on June i, 1742. 

122, 13. Lord Waldegrave's: James, first Earl Walde- 
grave (168 5-1 741), succeeded Sir Horatio Walpole as ambassa- 
dor and minister-plenipotentiary at Paris in 1730. 

122, 15. four acts: "The French opera has only three 
acts, but often a prologue on a different subject, which (as Mr. 
Walpole informs me, who saw it at the same time) was the case 
in this very representation. ' ' Mason. 



ipotfsf 327 

122, 22. the story of Nireus : the handsomest of the 
Greeks at Troy ; slain by ^neas or Eurypylus (///W, ii. 671 j 
Diodorus, v. 53). 

Z23, 10. Baucis and Philemon: Ovid, Metamorphoses^ 
viii. 611-724. 

123, 15. Iphis and lanthe: Ovid, Metam., ix. 665 fF. 

123, 20. Farinelli : ** Carlo Broschi (probably took the name 
Farinelli from his uncle the composer) was in England during the 
years 1734, 1735, ^^^ ''TS^* Gray had no doubt heard him. He 
is depicted singing at the lady's toilette in the fourth plate of Ho- 
garth's Marriage a la mode J"^ Toveyalso quotes Burney, History of 
Music f iv. 379, as saying that no other singer of the i8th century 
was gifted with a voice of such uncommon power, sweetness, ex- 
tent, and agility. 

123, 26. Mahomet Second : by Jean-Baptiste Sauve, dit 
dela Noue (1701-60), an actor and dramatist. It had great suc- 
cess. 

124, I. Mademoiselle Gaussin: Jeanne-Catherine 
Gaussem, called Gaussin (171 1-67) ; her success dates from her 
appearance in the role of Zaire on August 13, 1732. Voltaire was 
captivated by her acting. 

124, 5. Dufr^ne: Abraham-Alexis Quinault-Dufresne 
(1690-1767) made his first appearance on the stage at the Comedie 
Fran^aise in 17 12. *' He was especially famous in the character of 
le Glorieux, in the comedy of that name by Destouches." Tovey. 
On his retirement he received a pension of a thousand livres. 

124, 8. the Philosophe marie^: by Philippe Nericault 
Destouches (1680-1754); it was based on an incident in his own 
life. 

124, 9. Mademoiselle Quinault: Jeanne-Franfoise 
Quinauit, la cadette (1699-1783), sister of the Dufresne mentioned 
above. She acted 171 8-41. The family produced several celebrated 
players. 

124, 10. Mrs. Clive's way: Catherine Raftor (171 1- 
85), known as Catherine or Kitty Clive. She became famous as a 
comic actress, but never succeeded in tragic roles. Of her Johnson 
said to Boswell, " Clive, sir, is a good thing to sit by; she always 
understands what you say. In the sprightliness of humour I have 
never seen her equalled. ' ' 



328 iPote0 

124, II. Monsieur Grandval: Charles-Francois Racot 
de Grandval (1710—84), actor and playwright, author of several 
witty but immoral comic operas. "Wilks : Robert Wilks (c. 1665— 
1732), who acted the part of Juba in Addison's Cato and who was 
connected with the management of the Haymarket and Drury Lane 
Theatres. He was especially celebrated as a comedian. 

124, 18. " Gustavus Vasa " : a play by Henry Brooke 
(f. 1703—83), prohibited by the Lord Chamberlain under Sir Robert 
Walpole's Act for Licensing Plays. In consequence Johnson wrote 
yi Complete Vindication of the Licensers of the Stage. As The Patriot 
it was successfully produced in London. 

125, 3. Mademoiselle Dumenil : Marie Francoise Mar- 
chand, called Dumesnil (1713-1803), who acted at the Comedie 
Fran9aise 1737-76; one of the greatest if not the greatest of 
French tragic actresses. Her only rival was Mile. Clairon. 

126, 15. a huge heap of littleness : borrowed from 

Pope's description of Timon's villa, Moral Essays, iv. 109. Wal- 
pole, writing also to West, speaks of •* the great front "as "a lum- 
ber of littleness." 

127, 13. Latona: Leto, mother of Apollo and Artemis. 
Homer's Hymn to Apollo, 14 ff. 

128, 10. in usum Delphini : for the use of the Dauphin. 
128, 14. Cambis : Marquis de Cambis-Velleron (1706-72), 

lieutenant-general of the Pope in France. 

128, 16. King, Queen, Dauphin, Mesdames : Louis 
XV. (1710-74), gueen Maria (Leczinska, of Poland, 1703-68), 
their son Louis (1729-65), and their daughters, of whom there 
were eight in all, the seven living at this time ranging in age from 
eleven to less than two years. See £. de Barthelemy, Mesdames de 
France, filles de Louis XV., Paris, 1870. 

128, 25. Britannicus : Racine's play (1669), on which 
Gray modeled his Agrippina. 

128, 27. Phaedra and Hippolitus : Racme's Phedre et 
Hippolyte (1677). 

129, 3, Crebillon's Letters: Claude-Prosper Jolyot de 
Crebillon (1707—77), published in 1732 Lettres de la marquise de 
M . . . au comt'e R. Gray probably saw the 2d ed. (1738). 

129, 4. one Bougeant: Guillaume-Hyacinthe Bougeant 



j^otr0 329 

(1690— 1743) had just published U amusement pktlosophique sur 
le langage des hetes, which went through a dozen editions and was 
translated into English, German, and Italian, and which caused 
Bougeant's banishment to La Fleche. 

129, 13. the Grande Chartreuse: fourteen miles north 
of Grenoble, in the valley of the Guiers, 32,05 feet above the sea. 
Here St. Bruno (1030-1101) in 1084 founded the Order of the 
Carthusians. The beautiful Alcaic Ode written by Gray in 1741, 
on his second visit, should be compared with Matthew Arnold's 
Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse as illustrating the similarity of 
and the difference between the two men in respect to the appeal the 
place made to them. With this letter cf.Walpole's Letters, ed. Mrs. 
ToynBfee, i. 30 f. 

130,3. Abelard and Helo'ise : no special reason for re- 
membering them is evident, unless it be their retirement to St. 
Denis and Argenteuil respectively. Peter Abelard (1079-1142) 
was born at Palais near Nantes and passed his life in Paris and 
Northern France. Heloise, whose tragic story is inseparably linked 
with that of the great scholastic philosopher, lived c. 1 101—64, 
chiefly in Paris and at Argenteuil. 

130, 22. Nives coelo, etc. : Livy, xxi. 32. 

131, 2. carries the permission : a phrase borrowed from 
Madame de Sevigne, who quotes a bon mot on Pelisson, "qu'il 
abusoit de la permission qu'ont les hommes, d'etre laids." Mason. 

131, 8. can be tedious: West had written (March 25), 
*' His Pannonian sedition in the first book of his annals, which is 
just as far as I have got, seemed to me a little tedious. ' ' 

132, 4. Satis constabat, etc. : end of chap. 43. 
132, 9. the Dunciad : bk. iv., published in 1742. 

I33» ^3- grave discourses : Mason thought that Gray 
here had in mind Francis Hutcheson (1694—1746), whose Inquiry 
into the Original of Our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue (1725) had 
procured him the professorship of moral philosophy at Glasgow. 
He agreed with Shaftesbury in finding an analogy between the 
sense of beauty and the moral sense. He emphasized the impor- 
tance of calm benevolence. " Of all the patrons of this system 
[which makes virtue consist in benevolence], the late Dr. Hutche- 
son was undoubtedly beyond all comparison, the most acute, the 



330 ipotf0 

most distinct, the most philosophical, and what is of the greatest 
consequence of all, the soberest and most judicious." Adam Smith, 
Treatise on the Theory of Moral Sentiments ^ 4th ed., 1774, p. 361. 

133, 14. paradisiacal pleasures : West's reply was : 
*' I rejoice you found amusement in "Joseph Andrenvs. But then I 
think your conceptions of Paradise a little upon the Bergerac." 
Tovey, Gray and His Friends, p. 162. The reference is to 
Cyrano de Bergerac. 

^33* ^7' Marivaux : Pierre Carlet de Chamblain de Mari- 
vaux (1688-1763). On Nov. 19, 1765, Walpole wrote to Gray 
from Paris : ** Crebillon is entirely out of fashion, and Marivaux a 
proverb. Marivauder and Marivaudage arc established terms for 
being prolix and tiresome." 

134, 12. museful moping^S: Palamon and Ar cite, \. 541 f. 

134, 13- trim of love : id., 540. pleasant beverage: 
id., ii. 15. 

134, 14. a roundelay of love : id., ii. 78, stood 
silent in his mood: id., ii. 328. 

Z34, 15- with knots and knares deformed: /i.,ii. 
536. his ireful mood : id., ii. 582. 

134, 16. in proud array: id., iii. 61. his boon was 
granted : id,, iii. 187. 

134, 17. and disarray and shameful rout : id., iii. 
304- wayward but wise: id., iii. 385. 

134, 18. furbished for the field: id., iii. 446. the 

foiled dodderd oaks : Gray apparently wrote or intended to 
yixitt felled; id., iii. 905, 907. disherited : id., iii. 968. 

134, 19. smouldering flames : id., iii. 980. retch- 
less of laws : id., iii. 1074. 

134, lo, crones old and ugly: The Wife of Bath's 
Tale, 126. the beldam at his side: id., 261. 

134, 21. the grandam-hag : id., 312. villanize his 
Father's fame : id., 405. 

I35» 4- But I, that am, etc. : Richard III, i. i. 14-21. 

135, 19. silken son of dalliance, etc. : see Agrip. 

pina, 98, 103 f., 134, 169 f. 

136, 15. Davanzati : Bernardo Davanzati (1529-1606)) a 
celebrated Florentine scholar. 



136, 21. prayers to the May : refers to West's five stan- 
zas beginning ** Dear Gray, that still within my heart Possessest far 
the better part ! ' * printed by Tovey in Gray and His Friends, pp, 
165 f. 

137, 14. Broukhusius: Jean van Broekhuizen (1649- 
1 707 ) , soldier, Latin poet, and editor of the works of Propertius, 
his favorite author (1702). On May 5 West had written, '* I am 
only sorry you follow the blunders of Broukhusius, all whose inser- 
tions are nonsense. " Scaliger: Julius Csesar Scaliger (1484- 
1558), in his Poetics, vi. 7. 

137, 16. in sad condition: after these words Mason omit- 
ted some criticism of West's elegy. 

I3'7", 22. the Peloponnesian war : in Thucydides. 

138, 3- three lines in Anacreon: Odes/i. 29, on the 
portrait of Bathyllus. ** Make his locks to curl without restraint 
and let them lie as they will." 

138, 10. Sigilla in mento, etc. : from Varro's Papiapapae, 
iv. Riese reads Laculla (for Sigilld) and demonstrat. Quoted by 
Nonius Marcellus in his De honestis 'veterum dictis, s. v. mollitu^ 
din em. 

138, 12. John Chute : lived 1701-76. He was educated at 
Eton. Between 1722 and 1754 he lived chiefly on the Continent. 
He met Gray and Walpole at Casa Ambrosio, Horace Mann's 
house in Florence, in 1740. Tovey says, "He was a man of 
taste and culture, — there is a quiet and graceful pleasantry in his 
recorded bans mots.^^ 

138, 13. Mr. Mann: Horace Mann (1701-86), then 
British minister at Florence ; an intimate friend of Horace Walpole, 
with whom he corresponded (for publication) for forty-four years. 
In 1755 ^^ ^^^ created a baronet. 

138, 21. Middleton: Dr. Conyers Middleton (1683-1750) 
in 1 74 1 published a Life of Cicero, a part of which he is said to 
have plagiarized from William Bellenden. 

138, 22. the Sofa: Le Sopka, conte moral (1742), by the 
younger Crebillon, ** which does not strictly justify its subtitle." 

139, I. Mr. Garrick: Walpole likewise ** opposed" Gar- 
rick 5 see his letter to Mann, May 26, 1742. 

^39» 5- Pergolesi's songs : Giovanni Battista Pergolese 



33^ 0OttS 

(1710-36) was an eminent composer of the Neapolitan school, in 
his own day something of a failure, but more highly valued after- 
ward. Gray was an eager student of his music and made collections 
of it with the works of Palestrina, Leo, Marcello, and others. 

I39> 7- Galuppi's: Baldassare Galuppi (1706-85), called 
*' the father of Italian comic opera." Cf Browning, A Toccata 
of Galupprs. 

139, II. Pescetti's: Giambattista Pescetti, a prolific Ve- 
netian composer, d. 1758, He lived in London three years- 

139, 13. My Lady of Queensbury : Catherine Douglas, 
wife of the third Duke of Queensberry (d, 1777), celebrated for 
her beauty and eccentricity, the friend of many literary men. 

139. 14. my Lady of Marlborough : Sarah Churchill, 
Duchess of Marlborough (i 660-1 744), whose Memoirs appeared 
in 1742. 

139, 19. Mr. Glover's: Richard Glover (1712-85), a first 
cousin of Gray's friend West, and a poet, merchant, and M. P. 
(1761-68); besides much trash he wrote one ballad. Hosier'' s Ghosty 
which is still remembered. Boadicea was performed at Drury Lane 
for nine nights in December, 1753. 

140, 4. 'Ajofievos, etc. : *' Reverencing the sacred grove, 
abounding in game, of the far-darting (^ueen, leave, O hunter, the 
groves of the fearful goddess. Then the baying of the divine hounds 
alone resounds there ; thou sounding in answer to the music of the 
wild Nymphs." For KKayyevaLV cf, Theocritus, Ep. vi. 5, KX07- 

140, 9. an Heroic Epistle : Sophonisba ad Massinissamy 
which Gray appended. 

141, 17. young friend : Dr. Mark Akenside (1721-70), 
whose poem. The Pleasures of the Imagination, begun in 1738, was 
accepted by Dodsley on Pope's recommendation and published in 
January, 1 744. It was highly praised in general, though both Gray 
and Warburton saw defects. 

142, 9. Hutchinson-Jargon : see the note on 133, 13. 
142, 12, a la Mode du Temple: an example of the 

critical methods of the lawyers of the Temple is related by Walpole 
in his letter to Mann, March 11, 1748 : "There has been anew 
comedy, called The Foundling [by Edward Moore] ; Lord Hobart 



iPoteflf 333 

and some more young men made a party to damn it, merely for 
the love of damnation. The Templars espoused the play, and went 
armed with Syringes charged with stinking oil, and with sticking 
plaisters ; but it did not come to action." 

142,16. the Enthusiast: The Enthusiast^ or The Lover of 
Nature, which Joseph Warton wrote in 1740. Cf. I44, 3, and 
the note. 

142, 18. Health: The Art of Preserving Health, I744> ^Y 
John Armstrong (1709-79), a Scotch physician and poet. Mr. 
Bullen says of it, " No writer of the eighteenth century had so 
masterful a grasp of blank verse as is shown in parts of this poem " 
{Diet. Nat. Biog., ii. 95). 

14a) 23. Mr. Fraigneau: William Fraigneau (1717-88) 
became M.A. of Trinity College in 1743 ^"'^ ^^ professor of 
Greek 1744-50, succeeding Walter Taylor, who died Feb. 25, 
1744. Alsager Vian (D. N. B., xx. 158) gives the date of Fraig- 
neau's election as 1743 5 ^^^ ^^ O- S. 

143,3. the twentieth Year of the War : Thucydides, 

bk. vii. 

143, 6. Xenophon, or Plutarch: "Meaning, I think, 

how do you relish Xenophon (his account of the Retreat of the 
Ten Thousand), or Plutarch (e. g., his Nicias)y after Thucy- 
dides ? " Tovey. 

144, 3. Mr. Warton: Joseph Warton (i 722-1 800), 
elder brother of Thomas Warton, and headmaster of Winchester 
College 1766—93. His Odes on Various Subjects were published in 
December, 1746, by Dodsley, and reached a second edition. Mr. 
Collins: William Collins (1721-59) was a schoolmate of War- 
ton at Cambridge. His Odes (dated 1747) were published in De- 
cember, 1746, by Millar. He and Warton intended a joint publica- 
tion, but apparently could not find a publisher. Collins is said by 
Langhorne to have burnt the unsold copies of his Odes. Posterity 
has not sustained Gray's opinion of Collins. 

144, 14. Gibber's book: The Character and Conduct of 
Cicero Considered from the History of His Life by the Rev. Dr. 
Middleton, London, 1747, by the dramatist Colley Cibber (1671— 
1757). 

144, 17- Mrs. Letitia Pilkington's: this adventuress 



334 #Otefif 

(1712-50) seems to have charmed Gibber, and wrote a poem to 
him about the Cicero; cf. her Memoirs, 3d ed. , 1754, iii. 82. 

145, 3. Dr. Waterland: Daniel Waterland (1683- 
1740), a learned and trenchant champion of orthodoxy. From 
1730 until his death he was archdeacon of Middlesex and vicar of 
Twickenham. 

145, 10. the Doctor's recommendation: Middleton's 

book was highly laudatory. Gibber justified his treatment of Gi- 
cero's weaknesses by observing that *' David, the very man after 
God's own heart, has not the least veil thrown over his sins or 
frailties, but that they are as copiously laid open as his piety and 
virtues." 

14s, 23. Mr. Spence's pretty book: Polymetis, or An 

Enquiry concerning the Agreement befween the Works of the Roman 
Poets and the Remains of the Antient Artists, being an Attempt to 
Illustrate Them Mutually from one another, London, 1747, folio. 
The author, Joseph Spence (i 699-1 768), succeeded Thomas 
Warton as professor of poetry at Oxford (1728-38). Polymetis 
paid him ;^i5oo. 

148, 9. a little conversant: our idiom requires, (but) 
little conversant. 

148, 27. our Laurel : The laurel was imported into Europe 
by the botanist Glusius, about the year 1590, from Trebizond. 
The orange was certainly unknown to Virgil, having been brought 
from Ispahan at a much later period. Whitaker's ms. note, 
quoted by Mitford. 

149, 24. Mr. Lyttleton's elegy: the Monody on the 
death of his wife (formerly Miss Lucy Fortescue) published by Lord 
Lyttelton (1709-73) in 1747. Walpole's criticism has apparently 
not been preserved, kids and fawns: stanza vi begins: 

Sweet babes, who, like the little playful Fawns, 
Were wont to trip along these verdant lawns. 

150, II. Your epistle: An Epistle from Florence to T[homas\ 
A[shton], Esq. In Walpole's Works, i. 4. A poem of about 375 
lines, written in 1740. 

^50, 25. Nugent: Robert Craggs, Earl Nugent (1702- 
88), a wealthy politician and poet, later patron of Goldsmith. 



i^ote0 335 

150, a6- G. West: Gilbert West (1703-56), who was to 
translate Pindar's Odes (1749), which his father had edited 
(1697). 

151, 2. one of Mr. West's : A Monody on the Death of 
Queen Caroline, printed also by Tovey in Gray and His Friends, 
pp. 110-114. 

151, 5. Archibald Bower : lived 1 686-1766; twice joined 
and withdrew from the Jesuit order ; had a very shady career. 
The History appeared in seven volumes, beginning in 1751; the 
earlier part at least was a mere translation of Tillemont. ProfeS- 
SOr. G. Professour. 

151, 21. the account of the Gold-Mines: bk. iii., 

chaps." 1 2 f. 

151, 24. Cresset: Jean Baptiste Louis Gresset (1709—77); 
educated by the Jesuits, he became a celebrated poet, and in 1 748 
entered the Academy. Le Mechant appeared in 1747} Vert-Vert, 
in 1734; Sidnet, in 1745. 

152, 9. the Castle of Indolence : published in May, 
1748. 

152, 10. Mr. Mason: William Mason (1724-97), who 
became Gray's devoted friend and biographer. A voluminous poet, 
he also composed church music, and invented the celestina. Gray 
here refers to the Ode to a Water-Nymph, published about this time 
in Dodsley's Miscellany. 

152, 20. Mr. Dodsley's book: A Collection of Poems by 
Several Hands, in Three Volumes, 1748. Commonly called the 
Miscellany. 

I53» ^* ^ state-poem: On the Prospect of Peace, praised 
by Addison in The Spectator, No. 523, Oct. 30, 171a; written by 
Thomas Tickell (i 686-1740). 

153, 17. his ballad : Colin and Lucy, beginning, "Of Lein- 
Ster fam'd for maidens fair," also in the Collection. 

153, 19. M. Creen: Matthew Green <* of the Custom 
House" (169 6-1 7 3 7), a poet whom Gray consistently admired, 
yrrote The Grotto, 1732, and The Spleen, 1737. He was a charm- 
ing writer of octosyllabic verse, dealing with homely themes in a 
Dutch spirit of neatness. Gosse. This letter concludes with a tran- 
script of one of his poems. 



336 ^ote£f 

i53» *4- The ** School Mistress " : by Williiim Shen- 

stone (1714-63), said to have been *' written at college, 1736 "; 
first published in 1742. An imitation of Spenser. 

153, 26. ** London ": by Johnson; reprinted from the ed. of 
1738. 

154, I. Mr. Dyer: John Dyer (c. 1700-1758), author of 
Grongar Hill and The Ruins of Rome. 

154, 5. Mr. Bramston: Rev. James Bramston {c. 1694- 
1 744) wrote The Art of Politicks, The Man of Taste, etc. 

154, 9- Mr. Nugent: Earl Nugent was suspected of paying 
Mallet to write his best Ode, that addressed to [William] Pulteney, 
his later and obviously unaided efforts being contemptible. Gosse. 

154, II. Mr. Whitehead's: William Whitehead (171 5- 
85), poet laureate from 1757 on. 

154, 27. your Epistle: see 150, 11, and the note. 

^55> '^- ^^® beauties : The Beauties, an Epistle to Mr. 
Eckardt, the Painter, written by Walpole in July, 1746. 

15s, 14- Mr. Lowth: probably Robert Lowth (1710-87), 
professor of poetry at Oxford 1741—50 and in 1777 created bishop 
of London. Mr. Ridley : probably Glocester Ridley (1702— 74), 
fellow of New College, Oxford, 1724-34, a miscellaneous writer. 
Mr. Holle : unidentified; in the 5th ed. (1758) at least, his 
name is not attached to any poem; and this is true also of Lowth, 
Ridley, and Seward. 

I55> *S- the Reverend Mr. Brown: Tovey thinks this 

is the John Brown (1715-66) whose Estimate of the Manners and 
Principles of the Times appeared in 1757; see p. 1 85' He com- 
mitted suicide; see Gray to Mason, Oct. 5, 1766. Scward : 
Thomas Seward (1708-90), a clergyman, editor of Beaumont and 
Fletcher ; of him Coleridge, in his Lectures on Shakespeare, ex- 
claimed, ** Mr. Seward! Mr. Seward ! you maybe, and I trust you 
are, an angel, but you were an ass ! " 

155, 18. the sickly Peer: Lord Hervey, in his Epistle to 
Mr. Fox from Hampton Court, IJ31. 

155, 24. Mr. S. Jenyns : in An Essay on Virtue. Soame 
Jenyns (1704-87) was a voluminous but generally superficial 
writer. 

15s, 28. an Ode : To a Water-Nymph. 



0OttSi 337 

156, 7. Lady Mary: Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. 

156, II. Sir T. Fitz-Osborne's Letters: written by 
William Melmoth (1710-99) and published in 1742 under the 
pen-name of Sir Thomas Fitz-Osborne. Melmoth was a popular 
translator of Cicero and Pliny. 

156, 16. Edward: Gressei's Edouard III. 

I57> "3- the President Montesquieu's: Montesquieu 

( 1 689-1 755) was president of the Parlement of Bordeaux from 
1716 till 1726. Gray's criticism in every way stands the test of 
time. 

158, 17. Catilina: played Dec. 10, 1748. Prosper Jolyot 
dc Crebillon, the elder, lived 1674-1762, and was the bitter rival 
of Voltaire. 

159, 4. Travels in Egypt : f^oyage d'^gypte et de Nu' 
bit, written by the Danish artist-traveller Friderik Ludvig Norden 
(1708-42), captain in the Danish Royal Navy; translated into 
French partly by the author, partly, it is said, by Des Roches de 
Parthenay (Copenhagen, 1755, ^ volumes, folio, 159 plates), and 
into English by Dr. Peter Templeman (London, 1757, folio). 

159, 12. Mr. Birch: Rev. Thomas Birch (1705-66), a 
voluminous antiquary, historian, and biographer. Gray refers to his 
Historical f^ietv of Negotiations betiveen the Courts of England^ 
France, and Brussels, I^q2-l6l'j, published in 1749, 8vo, pp. 
xxiv, 529. Carew's account occupies pp. 413-528. 

160, 2. Mason's Ode: Ode performed in the Senate 
House in Cambridge, July 1st, I74g, at the Installation of His 
Grace Thomas Holies, Duke of Neivcastle, Chancellor of the Uni- 
versity. It was set to music by William Boyce, composer to the 
King. 

160, 23. a book : A Dissertation on 2 Peter i. jg, in ivhich 
it is shoivn that the Interpretation of this Passage . . .• as it is pro- 
posed by the Author of the Grounds and Reasons of the Christian 
Religion [Anthony Collins] is not probably the Sense of the Author^ 
etc., 8vo, London, 1750. The book completed the rupture be- 
tween Walpole, a partisan of Middleton's, and Ashton. 

161, II fF. 01 T6iroi: " Distances do not destroy friendship ab- 
solutely, they only destroy its active exercise. Still, if the absence be 
prolonged, it is supposed to work oblivion of the friendship itself; 



338 0ott& 

whence the saying, * Many a friendship is dissolved by lack of con- 
verse.* " Trans. Welldon. 

162, 8. Dr. Middleton : see the note on 138, zi; and 
L. Stephen, English Thought in the Eighteenth Century. 

162, 16. a good writer: Mr. Gray used to say, that good 
writing not only required great parts, but the very best of those 
parts. Mason. 

162, 19. by Montesquieu himself: unmistakably by Mon- 
tesquieu, although he neither gave his name to it nor wrote in the 
first person. It was a small pamphlet published at Geneva, *• chez 
Barillot et Fils," 1750, and sold at thirty sous. It was written m 
answer to two successive articles in some journal (October 9th and 
l6th, 1749). Montesquieu was therein accused of Spinozism and 
Deism. One objection urged against Montesquieu is that in his 
first chapter he says nothing about original sin ! The reply is ex- 
actly in the brief concise manner of U Esprit des Lois. Tovey. 

162,23. Histoire de Cabinet du Roi: Histoire natu- 

relle^ generale et particu/iere, ofvec la description du Cabinet du Roiy 
44 volumes, 4to, 1 749-1 804. The first part, the joint work of 
Buffon and Daubenton, was completed in 15 volumes in 1767. 
Daubenton supplied the anatomical descriptions. Buffons : George 
Louis Leclerc, Comte de Buffon (1707-88). 

163, 3. vivacity of imagination: one cannot therefore 
help lamenting that Mr. Gray let his imagination lie dormant so 
frequently, in order to apply himself to this very science. Mason. 

163,21. the Abb^de Mongon: Charles Alexandre Mont- 
gon (1690— 1770) was secretly employed by Philip V. of Spain in 
1726 in studying the means of securing the French crown for 
Philip in case of the death of Louis XV. , and helped to bring about 
reconciliation between France and Spain in 1727. His Mimoirts 
de ses differ entes n'egociations dans les cours de France ^ d^ Espagne et 
de Portugal de 172J a 17JI were published at La Hayc in 1 745— 
53 in eight volumes. 

163, 25, Presid. Renault's: Charles Jean Fran9ois He- 
nault (1685—1770) became in 1710 president of the first chamber 
of inquests of the parliament of Paris. He achieved success as a 
poet and a historian. Tht Ahreg'e (1744) extended to the death of 
Louis XIV. Eight editions appeared before the author's death. 



0Ott& 339 

165, a. Gil Bias: a comedy by Edward Moore which ap- 
peared in 1 75 1. TAe Lying Valet (1741) was by Garrick. 

165, 3. The Fine Lady: The Female Rakcj or The Modern 
Fine Lady (1750), a poem by Soame Jenyns, who had written 
The Modern Fine Gentleman in 1746. 

165, 5- Mr. Coventry: Francis Coventry (died f . 1759), 
M.A. of Magdalene College, Cambridge, wrote anonymously The 
History of Pompey the Little^ or The Ad'ventures of a Lapdog 
(1751). to him you kne'W : Henry Coventry (d. 1752), 
also of Magdalene (M.A. 1733) ; author oi Philemon to Hydas- 
peSf relating a Conversation ivith Hortensius upon the Subject of 
False Religion (1736-44). 

1*65, lO' Lady Vane : the beautiful but notorious daughter 
of Francis Hawes, a South Sea director ; lived 1713-88 ; married 
Viscount Vane, her second husband, in 1735. In 175 1 she paid 
Smollett to insert her Memoirs of a Lady of Quality as chap. 8 1 of 
Peregrine Pickle. 

165, 14. " Gosling Scrag " : this and the Monody were 
afterward omitted. 

165. Remarks on the Letters, etc. : Mr. Tovey, 
after comparing these remarks with the letters to which they refer, 
concludes " that Mason's original correspondent was other than 
Gray, and possibly a man of straw." I agree with him, but not 
for the reasons set down in his note (^Letters, ii. 293, n. 2). The 
unknown correspondent, JTy is represented as approving the meth- 
od Mason has * * taken of softening the rigour of the old [Greek] 
drama," but as advising him to modify the Chorus parts and as 
proposing a scheme for the alteration. Gray, on the other hand, 
while fully aware that the chorus was a "clog," expressly urged 
the retention of the choruses in Elfrida (cf. 168, 8 ff.) as the best 
part, which, had the play been changed, would have been lost. I 
am inclined to believe that X was an imaginary person ; that there 
were originally four of the letters (I agree again with Mr. Tovey) j 
that Gray read them in ms. (they may have been especially in- 
tended for his eye) and that his comments and quotations refer to 
this ms. draft. Before publication (1752) they were thoroughly re- 
vised in the light of Gray's criticism and increased in number to 
fiye. They bear the date <* Pemb. Hall. 175 1." That X was 



340 j]iOte0 

hypothetical cannot of course be proved ; it is inferred from the 
lack of names and dates, the fact that Gray apparently takes it for 
granted that X was invented, and the fact that Mason published 
the remarks as five Letters instead of four as originally planned. 
The Letters vi^ere summarized in The Monthly Re-vieiv, May, 
1752, vi. 387-393- 

165, 18. Dear Sir ... I am yours : omitted by Ma- 
son in the revision of his letters. Mason had presumably said: ♦♦ I 
meant only to pursue the antient method, so far as it is probable a 
Greek poet, were he alive, would now do, in order to adapt him- 
self to the genius of our times, and the character of our Tragedy. 
According to this notion, every thing was to be allowed to modern 
caprice, which nature and Aristotle could possibly dispense with." 
" Modern caprice " was later changed to " the present taste." 

166, 6, Love and tenderness: Mason had said: "A 
story was chosen, in which the tender rather than the noble pas- 
sions were predominant." 

166, 26. more intrigue : Mason had said (Letter III) : 
*' Hence it is [because of the lack of restraint imposed on the poet 
by a chorus], that secret intrigues become (as Mr. Dryden gravely 
calls them) the beauties of our modern Stage. ''^ 

167, 20. the verisimilitude or the regularities: 

Mason (end of Letter II) had said : "In France, the excellence of 
their several poets is chiefly measured by this standard [/'. c, the 
artificial or regular construction of the fable]. And amongst our 
own writers, if you except Shakespeare (who indeed ought, for his 
other virtues, to be exempt from common rules), you will find, that 
the most regular of their compositions is generally reckon' d their 
Chef d "" oewvre ; witness the ^1/ for Lo've of Dryden, the Venice 
preserved of Otway, and the Jane Shore of Rowe." See Tovey's 
note. 

168, 8. Modern Melpomene: Mason expunged this be- 
fore printing, probably substituting *' these playmakers." He 
printed this: " But whatever these Play-makers may have gained 
by rejecting the Chorus, the true Poet has lost considerably by it. 
For he has lost a graceful and natural resource to the embellish- 
ments of Picturesque Description, sublime allegory, and whatever 
else comes under the denommation of pure Poetry. Shakespear, 



0ott^ 341 

indeed, had the power of introducing this naturally, and, what is 
most strange, of joining it with pure Passion. But I make no doubt, 
if we had a Tragedy of his form'd on the Greek model, we should 
find in it more frequent, if not nobler, instances of his high Poetical 
capacity, than in any single composition he has left us." 

169, 14. young girls : an obvious allusion to Racine's 
Esther and Athalie^ originally written for the girls of Saint Cyr. 
Tovey. 

169,18. Jane Shore's reflections: Rowe, Jane 

Shore, \. 2. 181-193. Mason's statement which this apparently 
contradicts was expunged. 

l6p, 22. the : perhaps referred to Elfrtda as Gray read 

it, in ms. j but there is no situation corresponding to this in the ed, 
of 175a. 

169, 27. Maffei's Merope: Scipione MafFei (1675- 

'755)5 his ikfcro^ff, first played June 12, 171 3, was published at 
Venice in 1 7 14 and "helped to enfranchise Italian tragedy." 

170, 6. express poetry: Mason had remarked (Letter V) 
that the stage omission of the chorus from Athalie and Esther was 
due to the refinement of modern music, " which makes it utter- 
ly incapable of being an adjunct to Poetry." Tovey adds that the 
error of this view was demonstrated in 1762 by Gluck's Orfeo, in 
which " the music is everywhere made to minister to characteriza- 
tion." 

171, 3. bishop Burnet: Gilbert Bumet (1643-1715), 
bishop of Salisbury from 1689 on. •' For I do solemnly say this 
to the world, and make my humble appeal upon it to the great God 
of truth, that I tell the truth on all occasions, as fully and freely as 
I upon my best inquiry have been able to find it out." Preface to 
A History of My Oivn Time, 1723-24. 

171, 10. a man here: apparently Christopher Smart (1722— 
71), the mad poet, whose first confinement in Bethlehem Hospital 
occurred in the year 175 1. 

171,15. Dr. Middleton's: see 138, 21, andthenote. The 
first collective edition of his works (except the Life of Cicero^ ap- 
peared in 1752, in 4to. It does not include this work, which prob- 
ably remained unpublished. 

171, 17. Dr. Waterland: see 145, 3, and the note. 



342 iliotesf 

172, 12. The second : also apparently unpublished ; has no 
connection with his Vindication of the Free Inquiry into the Mi- 
raculous Powers, which are Supposed to have Subsisted in the 
Christian Church, &c. , from the Objections of Dr. Dodivell and Dr. 
Church, hon^on, 1751. 

I73f II- His Prussian Majesty: Friedrich II (171a- 
86), called "the Great," third king of Prussia. 

173, 24. History of Crusades: Voltaire's Histoire des 
croisades now forms chapters liii. to Iviii. of his Essay sur r histoire 
generate et sur les moeurs et I ''esprit des nations ; it originally appeared 
in Le Mercure historique, September, 1750, to February, 175 1. 

174, 2. Voix du Sage et du Peuple : this was Vol- 
taire's La -voix du sage et du peuple a Amsterdam che% Le Sincere 
(Paris), of which Bengesco (^Voltaire : Bibliographie de ses oewvreSj 
ii. No. 1609) notes four editions published in 1750. "It laughs," 
says Tovey, *' at the distinction between spiritual and temporal power, 
and affirms that a philosophic prince would abolish celibate orders, 
encourage religion, but suppress dogmatic disputes. " It was promptly 
condemned Qanuary 25, 175 1) by the Roman Church. 

174, 7. the Speculum of Archimedes: so called be- 
cause of the legend that Archimedes invented a burning-glass that 
set fire to the Roman ships when within bow-shot of the wall. 
Neither Livy, Plutarch, nor Polybius mentions the story. A. is 
also said to have written a treatise, now lost, on the burning-glass. 

174, 10. de Maintenon's letters: Fran9oise d'Aubigne, 

Marquise de Maintenon (1635-1719), privately married to Louis 
XIV. in 1684. She became governess to Madame de Montespan's 
sons in 1669. Gray's view of her is now generally held. 

175, 15. Bishop Hall's Satires: Joseph Hall (1574- 

1656), bishop of Norwich ; his satires were written at Emanuel 
College, Cambridge, and first published in 1597-98. 

I75> 17* ^l*- Donne: John Donne (i 573-1631), dean of 
St. Paul's. His satires were versified by Pope and published in 

1735- 

176, II. Lord Radnor's Vagaries: Lord Radnor's land- 
scape gardening was ridiculed by both Gray and Walpole. The lat- 
ter wrote to Conway, November 8, 1752 : " Have you any Lord 
Radnor that plants trees to intercept his own prospect, that he may 



^tti 343 

cut them down again to make an alteration ? ' * Lord Radnor lived 
at Twickenham, near Strawberry Hill. 

176, 16. Dr. Akenside: see 141, 17, and the note. Aken- 
side was at this time writing for and editing Dodsley's Museum. 

176, 20. Dr. Pococke : Richard Pococke (1704-65), 
bishop of Meath and celebrated as a traveler. He visited Egypt in 
1737-38. 

176, 24. Diodorus: bk. i., chap. xlvi. 

177, 7. Dr. Shaw's book : Travels or Observations Relating 
to Several Parts of Barbary and the Levant, Oxford, 1738, by 
Thomas Shaw (1694-1751), principal of St. Edmund Hall and 
Regius^professor of Greek at Oxford ; celebrated as an African 
traveler. 

177, 25. Strophe and Antistrophe : he often made the 
same remark to me in conversation, which led me to form the last 
Ode of Caractacus in shorter stanzas : But we must not imagine 
that he thought the regular Pindaric method without its usej 
though, as he justly says, when formed in long stanzas, it does not 
fully succeed in point of effect on the ear : for there was nothing 
which he more disliked than that chain of irregular stanzas which 
Cowley introduced, and falsely called Pindaric ; and which, from 
the extreme facility of execution, produced a number of miserable 
imitators. Had the regular return of Strophe, Antistrophe, and 
Epode no other merit than that of extreme difficulty, it ought on 
this very account, to be valued; because we well know that *' Easy 
writing is no easy reading." It is also to be remarked, that Mr. 
Congreve, who first introduced the regular Pindaric form into the 
English language, made use of the short stanzas which Mr. Gray 
here recommends. Mason. 

178, 6. nine lines each at the most : see the end of 

the last note. 

178, u. Monsignor Baiardi's book : Ottavio Antonio 
Bajardi {c. 1690-c. 1765), archbishop of Tyre and antiquarian, 
was employed by the King of Naples to describe the antiquities of 
Herculaneum. His Prodromo delle antichita di Ercolano, Naples, 
1752-56, 5 volumes, 4to, was the introduction to this work, which 
was eventually performed by the Herculanean Academy. 

i79» 9* Voltaire's performance: An Epistle of Mr. 



344 il^otes? 

de Voltaire, upon His Arri'val at His Estate near the Lake of 
Geneva, in March, //J'J. From the French, 410. Dodsley. Cf. 
The Monthly Re-view, October, 1755, pp. 285-287. 

180, 26. hover'd in thy noontide ray : I follow 
Tovey in italicizing in this poem whatever Gray strikes through. 

183, 19. Sully's Memoirs : Memoires des sages et royales 
aconomies d^estat, domestiques, politiques, et militaires, de Henry le 
Grand, etc., 4 vols., folio, 1 6 34 and 1662. The eccentric au- 
thor, Maximilien de Bethune (1560— 1 641), became Duke of 
Sully in 1606. Written by his secretaries, by order, as an address to 
himself, the book was rewritten in 1745 in third person narrative 
form by the Abbe de I'^cluse- 

184, 12. Memoires de Monsieur de la Porte : 

Pierre de la Porte (1603-80), valet de chambre of Louis XIV. 
His Memoires were printed at Geneva in 1756, i2mo ; they relate 
to the years 1624—66 and are to be accepted with caution. 

184, 17- Madame Staal : Marguerite Jeanne Cordier, 
baroness of Staal de Launay (1684-1750). Her Memoires were 
published at Paris in 1755, 4 vols., l2mo. 

185, 2. Dr. Brown's book : see the note on 155, 15. 
Mitford notes that the book " occupied for a time a very large 
share of public attention and applause ; several editions were called 
for in the course of a year, and a second volume followed the 
first." 

185, 9. the little wicked book : The Origin ofE-vil, \iy 

Soame Jenyns, Dr. Johnson exposed the absurdity of this book 
by his famous review in The Literary Magazine. Gosse. Cf. the 
note on 1 55, 24. 

185, 18. the chicken: probably The Bard. 

186, 4. Neville : Thomas Neville ( d. 1781), of Jesus Col- 
lege, Cambridge, published imitations of Horace (1758) and of. 
Juvenal and Persius (1759), and a translation of Virgil's Georgia 
(1767). 

■187, 18. the old Scotch ballad : Child Maurice, Child, 
English and Scottish Popular Ballads, ii. 263—75. 

188, 16. this thing: The Bard. 

188,28. your first Chorus: in Caractacus. Gray now deals 
with the ode beginning " Mona on Snowdon calls." 



ipotes; 345 

188, 31. "the sober sisters," etc. : ed. of 1759: 

King of mountains, bend thine ear: 
Send thy spirits, send them soon, 
Now, when Midnight and the Moon 
Meet upon thy front of snow : 
See, their gold and ebon rod. 
Where the sober sisters nod. 
And greet in whispers sage and slow. 

190, 5. with emotion : on the drama which excited emo- 
tion in Grayy Walpole writes [to George Montagu, June 2, 1759], 
*' Mr. Mason has published another drama called Caractacus. There 
are sonrfS incantations poetical enough, and odes so Greek as to 
have very little meaning. But the whole is laboured, uninteresting, 
and no more resembling the manners of Britons than of the Japan- 
ese," &c. — Misc. Lett.^ iii. p. 455. Mitford. Mrs. Toynbee reads, 
**of Japanese." Walpole adds, "It is introduced by a piping 
elegy, for Mason, in imitation of Gray, nvill cry and roar all night 
without the least provocation." 

The plot of Caractacus, adapted from Mason's argument, is as 
follows : Caractacus, king of the Silures, having been defeated by 
Ostorius, the Roman prefect, his queen Guideria taken prisoner, 
and his son Arviragus (as it is supposed) either being slain or having 
fled, retired with his only daughter Evelina and took sanctuary 
among the Druids in Mona. Ostorius, after the battle, marched 
into northern Britain, to the frontiers of the Brigantes. Their 
queen, Cartismandua, made with him a truce, one condition 
being that she should help him secure Caractacus to grace the 
triumph of Claudius at Rome. She gave her sons Elidurus and 
Vellinus as hostages, to be sent themselves to Rome in case they 
failed to capture Caractacus. On the expedition they were accom- 
panied by Aulus Didius and a sufficient force. The drama opens 
with their arrival in the sacred grove, a little before midnight, 
while the chorus of Druids are preparing to admit Caractacus to 
their order. Elidurus, the elder brother, is loath to betray Caracta- 
cus ; but the less honorable Vellinus argues that it will give them 
freedom. They are seized as spies. Vellinus reports that Guideria is 
safe with Cartismandua. The Druids insist on testing the spies by 



346 jpote0 

bringing them to a huge monolith which a pure man can sway but 
which a traitor cannot move. Meanwhile Arviragus, who was 
merely wounded, has collected his father's scattered forces and now 
comes upon the scene. He and Elidurus become allies, but Velli- 
nus flees and leads the Romans back to the grove. Arviragus, 
bravely fighting, is killed ; and Caractacus is captured, though not 
till after he has slain Vellinus. 

191, 7. the abstract idea personified : ed. of 1759: 

Patience, here, 
Her meek hands folded on her modest breast, 
In mute submission lifts th' adoring eye, 
Ev'n to the storm that wrecks her. 

192, 24. Caractacus ; ed. of 1759, P- '6; cd. of 1811, 
pp. 97 f. 

197, 4. writing an Ode : Mason had written (Jan. 5) : 
** 1 send you two odes, one so very ancient that all the ^ollan 
lyres that ever sounded are mere things of yesterday in comparison. 
If you have a mind to trace my imagery, you will find it all hud- 
dled together by Keysler, in his * Antiquitates Selectae Septentrio- 
nales et Celticae ' [Hanover, 1728]. The book I do not doubt is to 
be met with at Cambridge 5 and if you have not seen it you need 
only read his second chapter. But tell me, may this sort of imagery 
be employed ? will its being Celtic make it Druidical ? If it will 
not, burn it ; if it will, why scratch it ad libitum. . . . The 
other Ode is as modern as can be wished," etc. 

The first of these Odes, which Gray now criticizes, was the 
Druid's song on Death (^Caractacus, ed. of 1759, PP* ^^ ^- 5 •^*" 
son's Works, 181 1, ii. 153-55). The second was Mason's Ode 
to Mr. Joliffe, printed by Mitford (Correspondence of Gray and 
Mason, pp. 123 f. ) and by Tovey [Letters, ii. 8-1 1). 

198, 28. Mallet's Introduction: Paul Henri Mallet 
(i 730-1 807), b. at Geneva and professor of history there, pub- 
lished in 1755—6 his Introduction a V histoire du Danemark, prefatory 
to the history of Denmark which Frederick V, king of Denmark, 
commissioned him to write. Part of the Introduction was translated 
by Bishop Percy in 1 770 as Northern Antiquities. 

199, 6. pure, perspicuous, and musical : Tovey thinks 



iRotetf 347 

this !3 phrased after Milton's description of good poetry as "simple, 
sensuous, and passionate " ( Tractate of Education). 

200, 9. this Elegy : Written in the Garden of a Friend. 

201, a. " A mountain hoar," etc.: Tovey thinks Ma- 
son had written : 

A mountain hoar, the savage peak surrounds. 

Gray objects to the omission of the relative j see Tovey's note, 
Letters^ ii. 20, n. 4. 

202, 5. Pelloutier: Mason had asked if Pelloutier had 
published vol, iii. of his Histoire des Ce/tes (1750). Pelloutier had 
foUowed^Cluverius (16 16) and Keysler in the error of confusing 
Celt and Teuton. 

202, 13. Elegy I: To a Toung Nobleman Leaving the Uni- 
versity. Addressed to Lord John Cavendish, in 1 75 3. 
202, 15. "choir": Mason spelled y«rr(f. 

202, 20. " Fervid ": cf. 224, 27, and the note. 

203, 5. Elegy II: Written in the Garden of a Friendy 
1758. In the 2d ed, of the Elegies, 1763, this was Elegy II ; it is 
now No. III. 

203, 23. Elegy III: On the Death of a Lady, 1760J on 
Lady Coventry. Second ed.. Elegy III ; now No. V. 

205, 13. Agis: by John Home (i 722-1 808) ; it was played 
at Drury Lane Feb. 21, 1758, Garrick playing a leading part. 
Douglas had appeared in Edinburgh Dec. 14, 1756, and in London 
March 14, 1757. 

20'!, 18. the Miscellany: cf. Gray's previous criticism, 
152 ff. 

206, 3. Dr. S'wift: History of the Last Four Years of the 
Slueen, published by Charles Lucas, M.D., 1758. 

206, 5. M. de Torcy: Jean Baptiste Colbert, Marquis de 
Torcy (1665— 1746), secretary of state under Louis XIV. His 
M'emoires were published in 1756 and an English translation ap- 
peared in 1757. 

207, 4. Monsieur Freret: Nicholas Freret (1688-1749), 
a celebrated savant, whose bold U histoire de rorigine des Fran^ais 
caused him to be imprisoned for three months in the Bastille. His 
works were collected in 1796-99 in twenty volumes. 



348 jliotesf 

208, 9. Hodges: Gray alludes to the two additional volumes 
to Dodsley's Collection of Poems which came out in the year 
1758, and contained his two Odes, and some Poems by Mason, 
Shenstone, Akenside, &c. From Mitford, who adds, quoting from 
Norton Nicholls, that Gray disliked Akenside, and in general all 
poetry in blank verse, except Milton. 

208, 12. the tragic poet: perhaps Arthur Murphy (1727- 
1805), author of The Orphan of China, who quarreled with Gar- 
rick over this play. See Garrick's Pri'vate Correspondence, 183 1, 
i. pp. XXX ff., 81 ff. 

208,15. Dr. Stukeley's : William Stukeley (1687- 
1765), physician, clergyman, and antiquary, sometimes called " the 
Arch-Druid." He wrote much on Stonehenge. Stonehenge and 
Abury appeared in 1740. 

210, 3. the Greek Sophist: Hegesias the Cyrenaic, 
nicknamed, from his encouragement to suicide, Peisithanatos j cf. 
Cicero, Tusc. Disp., i. xxxiv. Tovey. 

211, 4. William Palgrave: c 1 735-1 799, of Pembroke 
College ; became LL.B. in 1760. He was in Scotland at this 
time. Cf. Tovey's note, Letters, ii. 49 f. 

212, 24. your second packet: contained the practically 
completed Caractacus, except the ode, "Hark, heard ye not yon 
footsteps dread ? ' ' Tovey. 

214, 10. the six last lines: they are addressed to the 
harp of the minstrel Camber : 

Sublime upon the burnish' d prow, 

He bad thy manly modes to flow ; 
Britain heard the descant bold, 

She flung her white arms o'er the sea ; 
Proud in her leafy bosom to enfold [ed. 1 759 unfold] 

The freight of harmony. 

214, 20. the four last lines: these read in the edition of 

1759 •• 

Dismal notes, and answer' d soon 

By savage howl the heaths among. 
What time the wolf doth bay the trembling moon, 

And thin the bleating throng. 



0Ott^ 349 

3X4) 27. " The Fairy Fancy ": the ed. of 1759 '"eads : 

Fancy, the fairy, with thee came. 

215, 3. " Beat on," etc.: ed. of 1759 : 

Pants thro' the pathless desart of the air, 
'Tis not the flight of her. 

2IS> 13. Dr. Long: Roger Long (i 680-1770), the cele- 
brated astronomer ; became master of Pembroke Hall, Cambridge, 
in 1733, ^^^ Lowndean professor of astronomy and geometry in 
1750. See the Introduction, p. xxxviii. 

216, 3. Cleone: byDodsley; acted at Covent Garden Dec. 
a, 1758. Garrick had condemned it as "cruel, bloody, and un- 
natural.** It ran sixteen nights. 

216, 8. Merope : a translation by Aaron Hill (1685-1750) 
of Voltaire J first acted in 1749. 

216, 9. The Guardian: adapted by Garrick from Fagan*8 
Pupille, 

216, 10. Cocchi's: GioacchinoCocchi(before 1720-^.1804); 
lived in England 1757-72 and composed there eleven operas, ac- 
quiring a considerable reputation. 

216, II. the Cyrus: // Giro riconosciuto is the title of an 
opera composed by Cocchi, produced at the King's Theatre in 
1759, ^^^ ^^'^ ^y ^^' Burney to be the best of Cocchi's produc- 
tions during his residence in England. Mitford. 

216, 14. II. 2. — These are, etc.: a criticism of the 

revised ode beginning, "Hail, thou harp of Phrygian fame!" 
This criticism, extending as far as execution, 2I7» 3> was printed by 
Mitford as a part of Gray's letter dated Dec. 19, 1756, while the 
detailed criticisms beginning "I liked the opening" were ap- 
pended to the same letter. Mitford was followed by Gosse and 
Tovey, in vol. i. Tovey, however, afterward rightly concluded 
(see Letters, ii. 61, n. 3, 63, n. i, 65, n. i, 70, n. i) that these 
criticisms belong here. Tovey' s Letter clxxx, it will be observed, 
is the end of his No. cxxxvi (i. 317), set off and redated ; but he 
does not reprint the matter that went with it. my favorite 
stanzas: the poet is speaking of Inspiration ; ed. of 1 759; 
High her port ; her waving hand 
A pencil bears; the days, the yean. 



350 jl^otesf 

Arise at her command, , 

And each obedient colouring wears. 
So [ed. 1811, Lo], where Time's pictur'd band 

In hues aethereal glide along; 

O mark the transitory throng; 
Now they dazzle, now they die. 

Instant they flit from light to shade, 
Mark the blue forms of faint futurity, 

O mark them ere they fade. 

217, 1. tout-ensembles: Mason had written, in the latter 
part of November, 1758 : ** I will attempt a new Mador's song to 
please you, but, in my own mind, I would not have him sing there 
at all on account of the tout ensemble, for he sings all the second 
Ode, and also all the fourth, so I am afraid he will be hoarse." 

2I7j 6. blank: Mason changed it to j?«r». 

217, 17. "trickling runlet ": this was cut out. 
218,2. " philosophy ": ed. of 1759: 

On the left 

Reside the Sages skill'd in Nature's lore: 
The changeful universe, it's numbers, powers, 
Studious they measure, save when meditation 
Give place to holy rites : etc. 

218, 16. Caesar and Fate: ed. of 1759 : 

Caesar and Fate demand him at your hands. 

218, 29. " modest mounds ": Tovey thinks mounds is a 
misprint for bounds. Mason changed it to '' the level course of 
right and justice." 

219, 14. this ceremony: in the ed. of 1759 the Semi- 
chorus says : 

Circle, sons, this holy ground ; 

Circle close, in triple row; 

And, if mask' d in vapors drear, 

Any earth-born Spirit dare 

To hover round this sacred space, 

Haste with light spells the murky foe to chace. 

Lift your boughs of vervain blue, 



il^ote0 351 

Dipt in cold September dew; 
And dash the moisture chaste, and clear. 
O'er the ground, and through the air 
Now the place is purg'd and pure. 

It then asks if the steers are ready for the sacrifice. 

219, 20, aske : a newt or lizard; a common word in northern 
England, cf. Wright, Eng. Dial. Diet. 

219, 25. " Gender'd by," etc. : ed. of 1759 s 

And the poient adder-stone, 
Gender'd 'fore th' autumnal moon? 

220, 2. an old British fancy: that the adder-stone, or 
druid's egg (a bead of glass used as a charm) was produced **by 
snakes joining their heads together and hissing, which forms a kind 
of bubble like a ring about the head of one of them, which the 
rest by continual hissing blow on till it comes off at the tail, when 
it immediately hardens and resembles a glass ring." See Brand- 
Hazlitt, Faiths and Folklore^ i. I94f. 

220, 13. Its nodding walls, etc.: Mason accepted the 
lines except this one. 

220, 26. "pestilent glare": ed. of 1759 ; 

. . . and Heav'n, who bade these warrior oaks 
Lift their green shields against the fiery sun. 
To fence their subject plain, did mean, that I 
Should, with as firm an arm, protect my people. 
Against the pestilent glare of Rome's ambition. 

221, I. "I know it, rev'rend Fathers": ed. of 
1759 : 

I know it, reverend fathers ! 

'Tis heav'n's high will, that these poor aged eyes 

Shall never more behold that virtuous woman. 

To whom my youth was constant, 'twas heav'n's will 

To take her from me at that very hour, 

When best her love might soothe me ; that black hour, 

[May memory ever raze it from her records] 

When all my squadrons fled, and left their king 

Old and defenceless : him, who nine whole years 



352 jliotes; 

Had stemm'd all Rome with their firm phallanx : yes, 
For nine whole years, my friends, I bravely led 
The valiant veterans, oft to victory, 
Never 'till then to shame. 
222, i6. Mingotti: Regina Valentini Mingotti (1728- 
1807), born at Naples, sang with great success in many European 
capitals. Cf. Letter s^ ed. Tovey, i. 297, n. 4. 

222, 18. Metastasio: Pietro Bonaventura Metastasio 
(1698— 1782), a Roman, especially famed as a lyric poet. 

222, 24. hares : Tovey suspects that Gray punned on hairs. 

223, 18. Money: cf. Gray's letter to Wharton, June 5, 
1748. 

224, 20. the end of the scene: ed. of 1759, PP- 4^- 

48 ; ed. of 1811, pp. 129-31. 

224, 22. "Thou, gallant boy" : changed by Mason to 
** Thou best of brothers." 

224, 27. " Fervid " : Tovey notes that Shakespeare does not 
use the word, but Milton uses it twice [P. Z,., v. 301, vii. 224]. 
Pope does not use the word. Cf. 202, 20. 

225, 3. the joint criticism: by Dr. Warburton, owner 
of Prior Park, and Mr Hurd, who was frequently there. 

225, 12. the chorus of the rocking-stone : the ode 
beginning, '* Thou Spirit pure, that spread's! unseen," ed. of 1759, 
pp. 40 f. , Mason, Works^ 1811, ii. 122 ff. 

226, 14. Whitehead's two Odes: Ode for His Majesty' s 
Birthday and Ode for the Neiv Tear, 1759. 

228, 4. Froissard : Tovey here reminds us of Sainte-Beuve's 
comment on Froissart (Causeries du lundi, ix. 63—96, October 24, 
31, 1853), in which (p. 74) he quotes this letter of Gray, and 
adds : "Combien cela semble plus vrai encore lorsque Ton parcourt 
un de ces beaux Froissart manuscrits comme en possede notre 
grande Bibliotheque [Nationale] et comme I'Angleterre en a sans 
doute aussi, tout ornes de vignettes du temps, admirablement 
coloriees, d'une vivacite et d'une minutie naive qui commente a 
chaque page le texte et le fait parler aux yeux, avec une entiere et 
fidele representation des villes et chateaux, des ceremonies, des 
sieges, des combats sur terre et sur mer, des costumes, vetements et 
armures ! Toutes ces choses y sont peintes comme d'hier ; la poesic 



0Ott^ 353 

de Gray elle-meme n'est pas plus nette ni plus fraichc, et ne reluit 
pas mieux." See also Sir J. F. Stephen, Horae sahhattcae, i. 22— 

54- 

228, 13. the succeeding century: the fifteenth. Jean 
Froissart lived c. 1338-f. 14105 his Chronicle ends at 1400. 

228, 16. King Arthur: supposed to have lived in the fourth 
and fifth centuries. His story became celebrated through the fabu- 
lous account in Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia -regum Britanniae 
(c. 1 1 39), which formed in part the ultimate source of the French 
romancers of the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries. Sir 
Thomas Malory's romance Le Morte d'' Arthur (1469, printed by 
Caxton in 1485) was compiled and translated from English and 
French'^ources. Sir Tristram: at first the hero of an inde- 
pendent legend, but very early associated with Arthur. The story 
of Arthur and Guinevere was probably influenced by that of Tris- 
tram. See Malory, books viii., x. 

228, 17. Archbishop Turpin: diedr. 800; figured as one 
of the peers of Charlemagne ; his name was connected with the 
twelfth-century half-legendary chronicle which recounted Charle- 
magne's expeditions to Spain, including the treason of Ganelon 
and the battle of Roncesvalles. 

228, 22. the four Irish kings: bk. iv., chap. 64. 

228, 24. who informed Froissard: bk. iv., chap. 62. 

229, 3. specimens of Erse poetry: translations from 
the Gaelic by the notorious James Macpherson (1736-96). At 
Moffat in the previous autumn he had shown sixteen pieces to 
John Home and Dr. Alexander Carlyle. Two of these, apparently, 
were sent by Sir David Dalrymple to Horace Walpole in January, 
1760, and passed on by Walpole to Gray. Macpherson's Frag- 
ments of ^indent Poetry Collected in the Highlands appeared in July. 
On the present state of the vexed Ossianic question, see the intro- 
duction to P. Christian's Ossian, barde du IIP siecle, Paris, 1905. 

229, 13. Hardycanute: printed by Percy, Reliques of An- 
cient English Poetry, ed. Schroer, i. 328—338, 992-994. Ac- 
cording to Percy, written by Sir John Bruce of Kinross. First 
published at Edinburgh in 1719. 

230, 3. the K. of Prussia's poetry: (Euvres du phil- 
Oiophe de Sans Souci, Potsdam [Paris], January, 1760, an unau- 



354 0om 

thorized edition published (by whom is not known) to make trouble 
between Frederick and his uncle George III. of England, then his 
ally. Cf. Walpole's letter to Mann, May 7, 1760. 

230, 5. the scum of Voltaire: Gray retained this preju- 
dice ; he wrote to Walpole, March 17, 1771: *' He must have a 
very good stomach that can digest the Cramhe recocta of Voltaire. 
Atheism is a vile dish, though all the cooks of France combine to 
make new sauces to it. As to the Soul, perhaps they have none on 
the Continent ; but I do think we have such things in England. 
Shakespeare, for example, I believe had several to his own share. 
As to the Jews (though they do not eat pork) I like them be- 
cause they are better christians than Voltaire, ' ' 

230, 6. Crambe recocta: cf. Occidit miseros crambc re- 
petita magistros. Juv., vii. 154. Tovey. 

230, 8. Tristram Shandy : vols. i. and ii. appeared Jan- 
uary I, 1760. 

231, 8. Musaeus: Mason's monody on Pope, written in 
1744 and published in 1747 j Gray had just revised it. 

231, 10. a bloody satire: Tiuo Odes^ to Obscurity and 
Oblivion, by George Colman the elder (1732-94) and Robert 
Lloyd (1733-64), written to ridicule Gray and Mason respectively. 
According to Joseph Warton they afterward repented of the satire. 
Cf. Boswell's Johnson J ed. Hill, ii. 334 f. 

231, 12. Mr. Pottinger: Richard Pottinger, who in 1754 
became under-secretary of state. 

233, 21. Mr. Evans: Evan Evans (1731-89), who in 
1764 published Some Specimens of the Poetry of the Antient Welsh 
Bards ; it included the Latin discourse De bardis dissertatio which 
Gray saw in manuscript. 

235, 2. M. D'Alembert: Jean le Rondd'Alembert(i7i7- 
83), one of the greatest figures in eighteenth-century France ; he 
especially distinguished himself in mathematics and philosophy. 
With Diderot he was engaged from 1751 till 1758 in editing the 
Encyclopedie. 

235, 3- his Elements: Elements dephilosophie, I759« 

235, 6. the letter to Rousseau: the "polished, cool, 
ironical answer" to Rousseau's Lettre a M. d* Alembert sur les 
spectacles. In the art. "Geneve" in the Encyclopedie^ vol. vii., 



i^otesf 355 

D' Alembert had expressed the wish that comedy might be tolerated 
by the Genevan clergy, while he praised their exemplary morals and 
perfect Socinianism. Rousseau's letter rebuked D' Alembert for 
praising the clergy to the injury of their reputation, and denounced 
comedies in general. 

235» 7- "Discourses on Elocution": Reflexions sur 

I ^elocution oratoire, et sur le style en general^ in his Melanges de I'lt- 
terature, d'' histoire^ et de philosophies Amsterdam, 1767, ii. 314-56. 

235» 8- "Liberty of Music": De la liberie de la mu- 
sique, also a reply to Rousseau; in the Melanges, iv. 381—462, 

236, 7. while rocking winds: II Penseroso, 1. 126. 

236^ 14. has described it gloriously: I agree with 

Tovey that Gray probably had in mind 11, 191-94. 

236, ai. " The waves are tumbling," etc. : since pub- 
lished in a note to " Croma," Ossian, vol. i Tovey. 

238, 3. a letter from Mr. David Hume: printed in 

The European Magazine, March, 1784, v. 327. 

240, 20. the nave of York Minster: now dated 1291- 

1324 ; F. Bond, Gothic Architecture in England, p. 657. 
240, 21. the choir: Bond dates r. 1380-c. 1400. 

240, 25 The Lady Chapel: begun in 1321. 

241, 1. the Chapel of Bishop West: Bond, p. 643, 

dates 1534. 

242, 2. Lady M. C: Lady Mary Coke, daughter of the 
Duke of Argyll, who married Viscount Coke in 1747; became 
known for her eccentricities. 

242,13. lightning : Mason changed it to /«s/r^. The Prince 
of Wales had written brightness. 

243, 12. this line: Tovey thus restores : 

That led her hence ; though soon, the steps were slow. 
Mason revised it thus : 

That led her hence, though soon, by steps so slow. 
243» ^3- a less metaphorical line:ll. 73-76 now read 
(2d ed., 1763) : 

Yet will I praise you, triflers as ye are. 

More than those Preachers of your fav'rite creed, 
Who proudly swell the brazen throat of War, 
Who form the Phalanx, bid the battle bleed ; 



356 ^ottsi 

that is, while shallow persons and soldiers (e. g.^ Frederick the 
Great) both deny immortality, the latter are the more reprehensible. 
243 > ^5- &• good line: it now reads: 

The breeze of bliss, that fills your silken sail. 

244, 14. " Truth ne'er can sanctify ": the stanza now 
reads : 

And why must murder' d myriads lose their all, 

(If life be all), why desolation lour, 
With famish' d frown, on this affrighted ball. 

That thou may'st flame the meteor of an hour ? 

245, 4- the Nouvelle Heloise: Rousseau's Julity ou La 
nowvelle i/e/oii^ was published in 1760. 

245, 12. Amadis de Gaul: mentioned in 1379 as a book 

much read in Spain; immensely popular on the Continent in the 15th 
and 1 6th centuries. Probably originated in Spain, though some defend 
the claims of France. Gray presumably read it in French, Southey, 
who translated it into English from the Spanish, ascribed it to Vasco 
Lobeira, a Portuguese knight who died in 1403. 

245, 24. mistake his own talents: Mitford here quotes 
Landor, De cultu Latint sermonh, p. 197: ** Rossao nee in sen- 
tentiis ipse suavior est (qui parum profecto praeter suavitatem habet) 
Isocrates, nee in verbis uberior aut amplioris in dicendo dignitatis 
Plato, nee Sophronisci Alius melior sophista. Nemo animi affectus 
profundius introspexit, delicatius tetigit, solertius explicavit. Odium 
vero hominum quos insinceros Graius aut pravos existimabat, aut 
religionis Christianorum inimicos, transversum egit et praeceps judi- 
cium." For the different effect which the book had upon Kant and 
others, see Lord Morley's Rousseau^ 2d ed., ii. 31-33. 

246, 2. Elisi : a man of great reputation and abilities; performed 
at the opera in London 1760 and 1 76 1. A great singer and emi- 
nent actor. See Burney's History of Music ^ iv. 473 f. Mitford. 

246, 20. The Mattel: Colomba Mattel; she "was both 
a charming singer and a spirited and intelligent actress." Burney, 
iv. 464 f. In 1 759 she won distinction in Cocchi's Ciro riconosciuto. 

246, 22. the Paganina : Signora Paganini, who sang with 
her husband in // mondo dtlla luna ; the airs, says Burney, "ex- 



ipotesf 357 

cellent in themselves, by the captivating manner in which they were 
sung and acted by the Paganini, became doubly interesting." 

246, 28. the Spiletta: the part of Spiletta in Cocchi's Gli 
amanti gelosi, taken by the eldest sister of the Giordani family with 
such skill that it gave the name to the company. Burney, iv. 365, n. , 
year 1755. 

247, 3. Mr. Richardson : probably Jonathan Richardson the 
younger (1694— 1771), son of the painter (of the same name, 
1665-1745) to whom Gray sat about 1729 for the portrait now in 
the FitzwiUiam Museum. 

248, 5. Hollar: Wenceslaus Hollar (1607-77), a Bohemian 
engraj^er brought to England by the Earl of Arundel; appointed by 
Charles II. *' His Majesty's designer." He produced over 2700 
prints. 

248, 6. Mr. Halfpenny: William Halfpenny, a London 
architect, had just published a work on Useful Architecture. 

249, 6. his new play: Whitehead's School for Lovers was 
acted at Drury Lane Feb. 10, 1762. 

249, 10. "Elegy against Friendship": the poem 

On Friendship, luritten about ij^i ; the sentiment to which Gray 
objected being doubtless that friendships may die from natural causes 
for which neither person is to be greatly blamed; 11. 73 ff. Ac- 
cording to Mason, Gray "disapproved of the general sentiment 
which it conveyed, for he said it would furnish the unfeeling and 
capricious with apologies for their defects, and that it ought to be 
entitled A Satire on Friendship.*^ 

249, 1 7. a very serious compliment : the praise of Gray 
occurs in Lloyd's "Epistle to Churchill " — 

What muse like Gray's shall pleasing, pensive, flow, 

Attempered sweetly to the rustic woe ; 

Or who like him shall sweep the Theban lyre, 

And, as his master, pour forth thoughts of fire ? Mitford. 

250, 7. Dr. Lowth's Grammar: Robert Lowth's Short 

Introduction to English Grammar (1762) was much used and influ- 
enced Lindley Murray. Cf. the note on I55> '4- 

250,11. the bishop: Warburton, bishop of Gloucester. 

251, 15. the chapel of St. Sepulchre: originally "a 



358 0ottS 

stately chapel founded in the izth century and dedicated to St. 
Mary and the Holy Angels, but generally called St. Sepulchre's 
chapel, probably because the Easter-Sepulchre of the minster found 
a temporary home in it." Quoted from James Raine's Tori, 1893, 
p. 158, which see further. A cut of it is given in Drake's and 
Burton's histories of York. 

251, 16. Archbishop Roger: Roger of Pont I'Eveque, 
archbishop of York, d. 1 1 8 1 . 

254, 4. a rude draught: the accuracy of Gray's drawing 
has been questioned ; see Mitford's note, Correspondence of Gray 
and Mason, 2d ed., p. 518. 

255* 7- Johnny Ludlam: there were two persons well 
known in literature and science, the Rev. William and the Rev. 
Thomas Ludlam, both Fellows of St. John's College. William was 
M.A. 1742, and died 1788; Thomas was M.A. 1752, and 
died 1811. . . . My friend Mr. Nichols agrees with me in thinking 
that one of these brothers was alluded to : the familiar name Johnny 
being given to him from his residence at St. John's College. 
Mitford. 

255, 19. the individual chapel : *'The chapel was re- 
stored, if not rebuilt, by Archbishop Thoresby, and was removed at 
the Reformation." Raine. 

255, 25. the south transept: dates from 1230-c. 1241J 
the north transept dates from 1241-60. 

256, 9. the chapter-house: not easily dated; Bond puts it 
c. 1 300, but thinks it may belong to the preceding period. 

257, 8. Roger's own tomb : cf Murray's Yorkshire Hand- 
book, 1867, p. 32; A. Clutton-Brock, TAe Cathedral Church of 
York, London, 1902, p. 125. 

257» 17- Mr. Howe: William Taylor Howe, of Standon 
Place, near Ongar, Essex, an honorary Fellow of Pembroke Col- 
lege. Mitford. 

257, 21. Count Algarotti's: Count Francesco Algarotti 
(1712—64), a learned dilettante, who corresponded on matters of 
taste with Frederick the Great, with Voltaire, and with Augustus III. , 
king of Poland. Gosse. Cf. Carlyle, Frederick, iii. 327. 

259> 3' Emile: published in 1762. 

260, 18. one Prince in Europe: Frederick the Great } 



jpoteflf 359 

cf. Carlyle's Life^ iii. 287. On Algarotti's relations with Frederick, 
cf. the same, v. 319, 380. 

261, 28. Cocchi : the first of Cocchi's productions men- 
tioned by Burney, History of Mustc, iv. 465, as produced in Eng- 
land, is Gli amanti gelosiy c. 1755. 

263, 14. Inig^O Jones: lived 1 573-16525 designed the ban- 
queting-hall of Whitehall, the fa9ade of St. Paul's, the Physicians' 
College, etc.; the chief architect of his time. 

265, 2. Count Algarotti's books : three small treatises on 
Painting, the Opera, and the French Academy for Painters in Italy; 
they have been since collected in the Leghorn edition of his works. 
Mason. 

265, 21. the Jesuits' Letters: Lettres edifiantei et curi- 
euseSf ecrites des missions etrangeres par quelques missionaires de la 
Compagnie de "Jesus, Paris, 1 707—73. A partial translation by Lock- 
man, Travels of the "Jesuits into Various Parts of the World^ 
appeared in London in 1743, in 2 vols. 

265, 22. Chambers's little discourse: A Treatise of 

Ci'vil Architxture^ 1759> ^X S^"" William Chambers (1726-96). 
He had a weakness for Chinese architecture; see his work in K.ew 
Gardens. 

267, 7. your Sonnet: Sonnet to the Earl of Holdernesse^ 
beginning, ** D'Arcy, to thee, whate'er of happier vein "; prefixed 
to the first volume of Mason's Works, and printed by Mitford, 
Correspondence of Gray and Mason, pp. 310 f. 

267, 19. a mass of Pergolesi: on Gray's musical library 
see the opening chapter of Henry E. Krehbiel's Music and Man' 
ners in the Classical Period, 2d ed., New York, 1898. 

269, 17. the Epigram: *' I possess several of Mason's po- 
litical and personal epigrams, which Walpole used to insert for him 
in The E'vening Post, but do not recognize the one here alluded to. 
Those against the King are written in the bitterest feeling of per- 
sonal animosity." Mitford. 

269, 23. Mr. Churchill: Charles Churchill died Nov, 4, 
1764. 

270, 7. Mr. Langhorne's: John Langhorne (1735-79) 
was at this time curate and lecturer at St. John's, Clerkenwell. He 
had been publishing verse for five years. 



360 jpote0 

270, 10. comes from Voltaire: one of the best modem 
estimates of Voltaire is that of Sir J. F. Stephen, Horae sahbaticaef 
ii. 211-79. 

272, 6. Rousseau's Letters : Lettra kcrhes de la montagne^ 
1764. 

274, 5. at Modena: Mason adds the following (I print his 
own words in italics) : When our Author ivas himself in Italy ^ he 
studied ivith much attention the different manners of the old masters. 
1 find a paper 'written at the time in ivhich he has set donvn se-veral 
subjects proper for painting, ivhich he had never seen executed, and 
has affixed the names of different masters to each piece, to sheiv ivhich 
of their pencils he thought ivould have been most proper to treat it. 
As I doubt not that this paper ivill be an acceptable present to the 
Reynoldses and Wests of the age, I shall here insert it. 

An Altar Piece. — Guido. 

The top, a Heaven; in the middle, at a distance, the Padre- 
Eterno indistinctly seen, and lost, as it were, in glory. On either 
hand, Angels of all degrees in attitudes of adoration and wonder. 
A little lower, and next the eye, supported on the wings of Seraphs, 
Christ (the principal figure) with an air of calm and serene majesty, 
his hand extended, as commanding the elements to their several 
places : near him an Angel of superior rank bearing the golden 
compasses (that Milton describes) ; beneath the Chaos, like a dark 
and turbulent ocean, only illumined by the Spirit, who is brooding 
over it. 

A small Picture. — Correggio. 

Eve newly created, admiring her own shadow in the lake. 

The famous Venus of this master, noiv in the possession of Sir 
William Hamilton, proves honu judiciously Mr. Gray fixed iipon 
his pencil for the execution of this charming subject. 

Another. — Domenichino. 

Medea in a pensive posture, with revenge and maternal affection 
striving in her visage ; her two children at play, sporting with one 
another before her. On one side a bust of Jason, to which they 
bear some resemblance. 



ipote£f 361 

A Statue. — Michael Angelo. 

Agave in the moment she returns to her senses j the head of ller 
Son, fallen on the ground from her hand. 

A Picture. — Salvator Rosa. 

^neas and the Sybil sacrificing to Pluto by torch light in the 
wood, the assistants in a fright. The Day beginning to break, so as 
dimly to shew the mouth of the cavern. 

Sigismonda with the heart of Guiscardo before her. I have seen 
a small print on this subject, where the expression is admirable, said 
to be graven from a picture of Correggio. 

Aftertuardiy 'when he had seen the original in the possession of 
the late Sir Luke Schaub, he alivays expressed the highest admiration 
of it ; though ive see, by his here gi'ving it to Sal-vator Rosa, he 
thought the subject too horrid to be treated by Correggio ,• and indeed 
I helieve it is agreed that the capita/ picture in question is not of his 
hand. 

Another. — Albano, or the Parmeggiano. 

Iphigenia asleep by the fountain side, her maids about her j Cymon 
gazing and laughing. 

Another. — Domenichino, or the Carracci. 

Electra with the urn, in which she imagined were her Brother's 
ashes, lamenting over them ; Orestes smothering his concern. 

Another. — Correggio. 

Ithuriel and Zephon entering the bower of Adam and Eve ; they 
sleeping. The light to proceed from the Angels. 

Another. — Nicholas Poussin. 

Alcestis dying ; her children weeping, and hanging upon her robe ; 
the youngest of them, a little boy, crying too, but appearing rather 
to do so, because the others are afflicted, than from any sense of the 
reason of their sorrow : her right arm should be round this, her left 
extended towards the rest, as recommending them to her Lord's 
care ; he fainting, and supported by the attendants. 



3^2 ipotefif 



Salvator Rosa. 

Hannibal passing the Alps ; the mountaineers rolling down rocks 
upon his army ; elephants tumbling down the precipices. 

Another. — Domenichino. 

Arria giving Claudius's order to Paetus, and stabbing herself at the 
same time. 

N. Poussin, or Le Seur. 

Virginius murdering his daughter ; Appius at a distance, starting 
up from his tribunal j the people amazed, but few of them seeing 
the action itself. 

275, 15. the dedicatorial sonnet: see 267, 7, and the 
note. 

27s, 19. " his ghastly smile " : a jocose allusion to what 
Gray, in another place, calls Lord Holdernesse's ugly face. Mitford. 
The line reads ** his wonted smile." 

276, 3. Mr. Bentham: James Bentham (1708-94), pre- 
bendary of Ely. The *' Historical Remarks on the Saxon Churches,** 
which Gray here reviews, formed the introduction to his History 
of Ely Cathedral. It was afterward erroneously attributed to Gray 
{The Gentleman'' s Magazine^ May, 1783, liii. i. 376, July, 1784, 
liv. 2. 505). 

280, 19. the epitaph: the Epitaph on Miss Drummond^ 
Mason's Works^ \. 1 3 8. The draft (16 lines) which Gray criticized 
is printed in the Correspondence of Gray and Mason ^^^. 394f. 
The Archbishop of York, Robert Hay Drummond (171 1-76), 
was translated from Salisbury in 1761. His daughter died in 1766, 
aged 16. 

283, 13. My only objection is . . . : the erasure here 
was made by Mason in compliment to Beattie. Gosse. A like 
erasure occurs at 284, 10. 

283, 19. Mr. Ferguson's: Adam Ferguson (172 3-18 1 6), 
professor of philosophy at Edinburgh 1759—85. 

283, 22. the fault you mention: Beattie had written 
(March 30): ** A Professor at Edinburgh has published an Essay 
on the History of Civil Society ^ but I have not seen it. It is a fault 



Jpote0 363 

common to almost all our Scotch authors, that they are too meta- 
physical. '* 

287, 12. the book: Historic Doubts on Richard the Thirdf 
1768. For other contemporary opinions concerning Walpole's in- 
genious work, see the articles by Dr. Milles and Robert Masters in 
Archaologiay i. 361-83, ii. 198-215 (1770, 1771), both adverse 
to Walpole. 

292, 17. Speed: John Speed {c. 1552-1629), whose His- 
tory of Great Britaine appeared in 1 61 1. Leslie: John Leslie 
(1527-96), bishop of Ross ; his History of Scotland^ Latin ver- 
sion, was first published at Rome in 1578. 

293, 17. Mr. Boswell's Book: An Account of Corsica^ 
the journal of a Tour to that Island, and a Memoir of P. Paoli, 
1768. 

294, 2. Sir William Cornwallis: ambassador to Spain 
under James I. ; d. c. 1631. 

295, 21. Guthrie: William Guthrie (1708-70), who pub- 
Ushed in I767 yf General History of Scotland in ten volumes. 

301, 15. Some trifles: Here followed some verbal sugges- 
tions, the exact form of which has not been preserved, but the tenor 
of Gray's criticism, in detail, may be found in Forbes's Life of 
Beattie, i. 197, and the appendix to the same. Gosse. 

302, 23. Monstrelet: Euguerrand de Monstrelet (1390- 
1453 ) ; his Chronique covers the years 1400-44. 

303,1. Philip de Comines: 1445-1509. His Memoires, 
4 vols., edited by Lenglet-Dufresnoy, had been published in Lon- 
don in 1747. See Sir J. F. Stephen, Horae sabbaticae, i. 55-123. 

303, 2. Villehardouin : Geoffroi de Villehardouin (c, 1160- 
c. 1213) wrote a history of the Fourth Crusade, covering the 
years 1 198-1207. Joinville: Jean, Sire de Joinville (1225- 
1317), whose Histoire de Saint Louis gives a vivid picture of the 
reign of Louis IX. (1226-70). See Sir J. F. Stephen, Horae sab- 
baticae, i. 1-2 1. 

303, 23. such as imitate them: To fare, i. <?., to go, is 

used in Pope's Odyssey, and so is meed ; ivight (in a serious sense) 
is used by Milton and Dryden. ff^een is used by Milton ; gaude by 
Dryden ; shene by Milton ; eschew by Atterbury ; aye by Milton. 
The poetical style in every nation (where there is a poetical style) 
abounds in old words. Beattie. 



364 ^ott& 

304, 10. the plaister of thy hair: I did not intend a 
poem uniformly epical and solemn ; but one rather that might be 
lyrical, or even satirical, upon occasion. Beattie. 

304, 18, I most admire: I meant here an ironical argu- 
ment. Perhaps, however, the irony is vi^rong [jzV] placed. Mammon 
has now come to signify nvealth or riches^ without any regard to its 
original meaning. Beattie. 

305* 6- garniture: I have often wished to alter this same 
word, but have not yet been able to hit upon a better. Beattie. 

305, II. wandering': 'wandering happens to be in the last 
line of the next stanza save one, otherwise it would certainly have 
been here. Beattie. 

305, 25. that part: I had sent Mr. Gray from St. 23 to 
St. 39 by way of specimen. Beattie. 

306, 4. like affectation : it does so, and yet it is not af- 
fected. I have endeavoured once and again to clear this passage of 
those obnoxious letters, but I never could please myself. Allitera- 
tion has great authorities on its side, but I would never seek for it j 
nay, except on some very particular occasions, I would rather 
avoid it. When Mr. Gray, once before, told me of my propensity 
to alliteration, I repeated to him one of his own lines, which is in- 
deed one of the finest in poetry — 

Nor cast one longing lingering look behind. 
Beattie. 

306, 16. to advantage: this remark is perfectly just. All 
I can say is, that I meant, from the beginning, to take some lati- 
tude in the composition of this poem, and not confine myself to 
the epical rules for narrative. In an epic poem these digressions 
and reflections, etc., would be unpardonable. Beattie. 

306, 22. hazardous at best : I would as soon make new 
coin, as knowingly make a new word, except I were to invent any 
art or science where they would be necessary. Infuriate is used by 
Thomson, Summer^ 1096 [and Autumn^ 39] ; and, which is much 
better authority, by Milton, Par. Lost, book vi. v. 487. Beattie j 
to which Mrs. Thrale added: "By twenty people; Gray was a 
merciless critic." The "twenty" would not include Shakespeare 
or Pope, Burns used it once ( Sent to a Gentleman (Offended ). 



il^otffif 365 

307, 4. enoug^h before: what I said before referred only 
to sophists perverting the truth ; this alludes to the method by 
which they pervert it. Beattie. 

307, 9. rarely thunders : it sometimes thunders in the lat- 
ter part of spring. Sultry day would be an improvement perhaps. 
Beattie. 

307, 21. with probability: this is an excellent hint; it 
refers to something I had been saying in my last letter to Mr. 
Gray, respecting the plan of what remains of The Minstrel. Beattie. 



SlnDejc 



Abelard and Heloise, 130, 329. 

jidam Bel/, 34, 54. 

Addison, J., xxviii-xxxi, no, 

134, 153. 3*4, 328, 335. 
Adrian IV., Pope, 49, 69, 77. 
i^sop. 128. 
Akenside, M., 141 f., 176, 

205, 208, 332, 343, 348. 
Alamanni, L., 39. 
Albani, F., 361. 
Alembert, J. le R. d', 235, 

354 f- 
Alexandre, Roman <r, 53, 317. 
Alexandrine, 27 f., 47 f., 53 fF., 

317- 
Alfred, Proverbs of, 74 f., 321. 
Algarotti, Count F., 257 fF., 

265 fF., 284 fF., 291, 358 f. 
Alliteration, 58, 364. 
Alps, The, xiii, xxxif., 129 fF. 
Amadiide Gaul, 245, 302, 356. 
Amici, The, 262. 
Anacreon, 137 f., 331. 
Angelo, Michael, 361. 
Anno, Life of, 59. 
Appian, 141. 
Arabs, Rhyme among the, xlvi, 

68. 
Archimedes, Speculum of, 174, 

34-i. 
Architecture, xliifF, Egyptian, 
176 ; English, xvii, 263 ; 



Gothic, 175 fF., 227, 240 f., 
256 f., 273, 276fF. ; Gre- 
cian, 176 f. ; Moorish, 176 f. j 
Norman, xlii, 13 fF., 310 fF. ; 
Persian, 176. See also Gothic 
design. 

Ariosto, 43, 108. 

Aristophanes, xiv, xxxix, lii. 

Aristotle, xiv, xxix f., xxxiii, 3, 
143, 161, 165, 187, 337 f., 
340. 

Armstrong, John, 142, 333. 

Arnold, Matthew, xxii f. , xxxiv, 
liii. 

Arthur, 89, 228, 323, 353 J 
Art hour and Merlin, 49, 
316 ; Morte d* Arthur, 302, 

353- 
Ashton, T., xi, 124, 160 f., 

334, 337- 
Assembly of Gods, The, 41, 

315- 
Assembly of Ladies, The, 40, 

315- 
Atterbury, Bp. F., 363. 
Augustine, St., 57. 

Bach, Carlo, 267. 

Baiardi, O. A., 178 f., 343. 

Baif, J. A. de, 38. 

Baldwin, W., 48, 54, 1 17, 325. 

Ballads, XXX. See also Chevy 



368 



'Sio.m 



CAasCf Child Maurice, Childe 

Waters^ Glasgerion, The Nut- 

bronvn Maid. 
Ballet de la pat x^ 12 a. 
Barberina, The, 260. 
Barberino, F. da, 21, 3 1 2. 
Barclay, A., 32. 
Baucis and Philemon^ i^3) 3*7- 
Beattie, J., 282 ff,, 299 f., 

303 fF., 362 fF. 
Bel InconnUy Lc, 51. 
Belle dame sans mercy. Sec Ros, 

Sir R. 
Benbeirdh, 57, 318. 
Bentham, James, 276 fF., 362. 
Bcntley, R. (i 662-1 742), 

xxxiv. 
Bentley's Designs^ xvi. 
Bernard of Cluny, 71, 320. 
Beryn, Tale of, 3Si 54- 
Bevis of Southampton, 34 f. , 51, 

3H- 
Bible, The^ xxx. 
Birch, T., 159, 337. 
Boccaccio, G., 21, 43, 91 f., 

loi, 105, 108, 112, 119, 

324. 
Boileau Despreaux, N., xxx. 
Bolingbroke, Lord, xl, 7 fF. , 

230, 309. 
Bonfoy, Mr., 186. 
Bonstetten, C. V. de, xx, xxvi, 

li, 296. 
Boswell,}., XX, 293, 354, 363. 
Bougeant, G. H., 129, 328 f. 
Bower, A., 151, 335. 
Bramston, J., 154, 336. 
Britain^ s Ida^ 47. 



Brockhuisen, Jean, 137, 331. 
Brooke, Henry, 124, 328. 
Brooke, Lord, 120. 
Brown, James, xxii, xxiv, 

xxxviii, xlix, 208, 244, 251, 

257, 284, 286. 
Brown, John, 155, 185, 336, 

344- 
Buckhurst, Lord, 116, 120, 

3^5- 
BufFon, Comte de, 162 f., 174, 

n^j 269, 338. 
Burnet, G., 171, 326, 341. 
Burns, R,, 364 
Bury Abbey, 277. 
Butler, S., 55. 
Bysshe, £., xxx. 

Caedmon's Hymn, 59, 85, 318. 
Caesar, J,, 197, 206, 218, 350. 
Caesura, 25 fF., 314. 
Cambis-Velleron, Marquis de, 

128, 328. 
Cambridge University, xi, xxiv, 

xxxvii. 
Canterbury Cathedral, 278. 
Canzoni, 47. 

Carew, Sir G., 159, 184, 337. 
Carlisle, The Earl of, 52. 
Carracci, The, 274, 361. 
Catullus, xlvi. 
Cavalcanti, G., 70. 
Caxton, W., 41. 
Celtic literature, xiii, xviii, xxxv, 

xlvii. See also Ossian, Welsh 

literature. 
Cephalo and Procri, 139. 
Chambers, Sir W., 265, 359. 



^nm 



369 



Champneys, B., xliv. 

Charles I. of England, 263. 

Chaucer, G., xxxiii, xxxv, 
xlviif., 41 f., 24f., 31 fF., 
36, 39-44, 49 ff-, 53f',63, 
90 f., 98, 103, 105, 109 f., 
312 ff., 324 f. 

Chevy ChasCy 55. 

Child Maurice^ 55, 187 f., 317, 

344- 
Childe Water i^ 54. 
China^ Gardening in, 265. 
Cholmer and Dancings Tenure ofy 

73, 84, 320. 
Chorus, 1, 166 ff., 190, 339 ff. 
Christina^ Life of St. yjo. 
Churchill, C, 269 f., 357, 359. 
Chute, J., xxiv, xxxviii, xlix, 

138, 154, 331- 
Cibber, C, xvii, I44f., 333 f 
Cicero, xxix, 144 f., 158, 

.333 f-, 337, 341, 348. 
Cignani, Carlo, 274. 
Ciullo del Camo, 64. 
Clanvowe, Sir T., 44, 316. 
Clarke, Dr., 239. 
Clarke, S., xlif., 8, 309 f. 
Clive, Mrs., 124, 327. 
Clough, A. H., xxiii. 
Clytnme of the Clough^ 34. 
Cocchi, G., 216, 246, 261, 

349, 357, 359- 
Coke, Lady Mary, 242, 355, 
Collins, W., 144, 333. 
Colman, G., 231, 233 f., 237, 

M9, 354. 
Comedy, 167. 
Coxnines, P. dc, 296, 303, 363. 



Congreve, xxi. 

Cornwallis, Sir W., 294, 363. 
Correggio, F., 360 f. 
Coventry, F. and H., 165, 339. 
Crebillon, C. P. J. de (>/i), 
129, 133, 138, 328, 330 f. 
Crebillon, P. J. de {pere), 158, 

337. 
Crcscimbcni, G. M., 21, 23, 

30, 33 f-, 38, 40, 43 ff-, 47, 

56, 61, 64, 68 ff., 82, 312. 

Criticism in Gray's time, xxvii ff. 

Dacier, A,, 6, 309. 

Dance of Death, The, 91, ill, 

324. 
Daniel, A., 30, 46. 
Daniel, S., xlix, 46, 118 ff., 

3^5 f- 
Dante, xxxv, 23, 30, 44, 48, 

61, 63f., 72. 
Dante da Majano, 70. 
Dares Phrygius, 90, 323. 
Darwin, C, xxv. 
Daubenton, L. J. M., 162 f., 

338- . 
Davanzati Bostichi, B., 136, 

330- 
Death. See Long Life. 
Death and Life, 67, 320. 
Degree, Sir, 52. 
Delap, J., 249 f. 
Dennis, J., xxviii f. 
Destouches, P. N., 124, 327. 
Diodorus, 151, 176, 327, 335, 

,343; 
Dionysius of Halicarnassus, 10 1, 

147. 



370 



'^nt^tx 



Dodsley, J., Collection of PoemSy 
1, 150 fF., 170 f., 185, 205, 

230, 33», 335» 347 f- 
Dodsley, R., 216, 349. 
Doggerel, xlv f. , 26, 3 3 ff- . 5 5 . 

313 f 
Domenichino. See Zampieri, D. 

Donne, J., 37, 48, 175, 342. 
Douglas, G., xxxiii, 38-44, 49. 
Drant, T., 38. 

Drayton, M., 35, 53, 119, 325. 
Druids, 83, 86, 206. See also 

Mythology, Celtic. 
Dryden, J., xx, xxviii, xxxii, 

XXXV, 28, 40, 94, 98, 109, 

"34, 154, ai9> 33o> 340, 

363- 
Dufresne, A. A. Q., 124, 327. 
Dugdale, Sir W. , 251, 323. 
Dumenil, Mile., 125, 328. 
Durham Cathedral, i6f., 278. 
Durham Fields 54. 
Dyer, Sir E., 38. 
Dyer, J., 154, 336- 

Eddoy The, 207. 
Eger and Grime ^ 52. 
Eg/amour, Sir, 51, 324. 
Ekkehard IV., monk of St. 

Gall, 62, 77 f., 322. 
Elegy, Requirements for, 12 1. 
Elisi, 246, 356. 
Elizabeth, Queen, 27, 54. 
Ely Cathedral, 14, 1 6 ff. , 240 f. , 

277, 280, 355, 362. 
England, Arts in, 259 ff., 265. 
Ethelhert, Epitaph on, 78, 322. 
Eton College, xi. 



Eustace. Sec Wace. 
Evans, Dr., 154. 
Evans, E., 233, 354. 

Fabyan, R., 26, 41, 314. 
Farinelli, C. B., 123,246, 327. 
Federigo, Imperador, 64. 
Fenel, Abbe, 206. 
Ferguson, A., 283, 362. 
Fides, Life of St., 6 s. 
Fielding, H., 132, 330. 
Fitz-Osborne, Sir T. See Md- 

moth, W. 
Fleury, A. H. dc, 174, 
Flodden Field, 54, 67, 320. 
Flower and the Leaf, The, 40, 

315. 
Folcacchio de' Folcacchicri, 47. 
Fontaine. See La Fontaine. 
Fontenelle, B. le B. de, 268. 
Fortune, 149. 
Fraigneau, W., 142, 333 
France, Gray traveling in, xii, 

122-129 i sights in, 272 f. 
Francis, St., 40. 
Frederick the Great, 173, 230, 

260, 288, 342, 353 f., 356, 

358 f. 
Frere and the Boy, The, 5 1. 

Freret, N., 207, 347. 
Froissart, J., 228, 302, 352 f. 

Galuppi, B., 139, 332. 
Gamelyn, Tale of, is^ 54, 317. 
Garrick, D., 139, 154, 165, 
208, 216, 231, 234, 331, 

339» 347 ff. 
Gascoyne, 6., 40, 42, 50 f., 54. 



3lnDe)c 



371 



Gaussin, Mile., 124, 327. 

Gautier de Chatillon, 53. 

Gaveston, P., 119. 

Gawayne, Sir, and the Green 
Knight, 51. 

George III. of England, 263. 

German literature, Gray's know- 
ledge of, XXX vi. 

Gil Bias. See Moore, E. 

Gill Morrice. See Child Mau- 
rice. 

Girard de Borneil, 47. 

Glusgerion, 55, 317. 

Glass, Stained, 226 f. 

Glover, R., 139, 332. 

Godiva, Lady, 323. 

Goldynge, A., 55, 

Gosling Scrag, 165, 339. 

Gothic design, 247. See also 
Architecture, Gothic. 

Gower, J., xlvii, 41, 49, 90, 

98, 3i5» 3*3- 

Grande Chartreuse, xiii, 129, 
272 f., 329. 

Grandval, C. F. R. de, 124, 
328. 

Gray, Dorothy, xi, xvi, xlix. 

Gray, Philip, xi, xiv. 

Gray, Thomas, .Agrippina, 
xiii, 135, 330; Alcaic Ode, 
xiii ; The Alliance of Educa- 
tion and Government, xiv, 
xxxiii ; The Bard, xvi f. , 
179 ff., 185 ff., 249, 344; 
De principiis cogitandi, xiii ; 
Elegy Written in a Country 
Churchyard, xiii-xv, 249 j 
Essay on Norman Architecture, 



xvi, xliifF., 13 ff., 3loff.; 
Essay on the Philosophy of 
Lord Bolingbroke, xl ff., 7 
ff., 309f, ; History of Eng- 
lish Poetry, proposed, xviii, 
xiv, xlix ; Hymn to Adversity, 
xiii ; Inscription for a Wood, 
140, 332 ; Journal in the 
Lakes, xix, xxv ; Letters, 
xxiif., XXV, xlix— lii, 122 ff., 
326 ff. J A Long Story, xv j 
Metrum, xliv ff. , lii, 2 1 ff. , 
3 1 2 ff. ; minor poems, xxxiii ; 
Notes on Aristophanes, xxxix j 
Notes on Plato, xxxix, 3 ff., 
309 f. ; Ode for Music, xx j 
Ode on a Distant Prospect of 
Eton College, xiii; Ode on Vi- 
cissitude, xvi J Ode to Spring, 
xiii ; The Progress of Poesy, 
xvi f. , 249 ; Sonnet on the 
Death of West, xiii ; Sopho' 
nisha ad Masstnissam, 140, 

33^- 
Grecian republics, 183. 
Greek, Gray a student of, xii, 

xiv, xxv, xxxiv, xxxix. 
Greek Anthology, The, xiv. 
Green, M., 153, 335. 
Gresset, J. B. L., 151, 156 f., 

335. 337. 
Grimald, N., 39, 3i4f. 
Guido delle Colonne, 64. 
Guittone d'Arezzo, 45. 
Gustavus Vasa. Sec Brooke, H. 
Guthrie, W., 295, 363. 

Halfpenny, W., 248, 357, 



372 



^nttv 



Hall, Mr., 230 f. 
Hall, J., 175, 342. 
HardycanutCy 229, 353. 
Hardynge, J., 41. 
Harvey, G., 38. 
Hecuba. See Delap, J. 
Hegesias the Cyrenaic, 210, 

348. 
He/iandy The, 59, 318. 
Helinand, 63. 

Henault, C. J. F., 163, 338. 
Henry IV, of France, 183 f. 
Henryson, R., 316. 
Herculaneum, 178 f., 194, 343. 
Hereford Cathedral, 1 8, 278, 
Herodotus, 302. 
Hervey, A., 154. 
Hervey, Lord, 154, 336. 
Hickes, G., 22, 58 ff., 63, 

Hill, A., 216, 349. 
Hoccleve, T., xlvii, 41, 98. 
Hodges, 208, 348, 
Hogarth, W., xiv. 
Holbein, H., 291. 
Hollar, W., 248, 357. 
Home, J., 187, 205, 347. 
Homer, xii, xxxv, 90 f,, 93, 

122, 324, 327. 
Horace, xii, xxix f. , xxxiii, xlvi, 

309, 344- 
Howe, W. T., 257 f., 264, 

268, 284, 358, 
Hudibras. See Butler, S. 
Huet, P., 68, 320. 
Hume, D., xviii, 238, 240 f., 

289, 295, 301 f., 355. 
Huon de Mari, 34. 



Hurd, R., 186, 225, 248, 250, 

352. 
Hutcheson, F., 133, 142, 329 f. 

Iphis and lanthCy 123, 327. 

Isocrates, 299, 356. 

Isola, A., XX. 

Italian republics, 183. 

Italy, Arts in, 260 ff., 360 ff. j 

Gray traveling in, xiii j sights 

in, 273 f., 360 ff. 

Jacopo da Lentino, 64. 

Jean li Nevelois, 53. 

Jenyns, S., 154, 165, 185,336, 

339, 344- 
Jesuits^ Letters, r,4«, 265, 359. 
Jews, The, 354. 
Jodelle, Etienne, 38. 
Johnson, S., xxi, xxxvf., 153, 

,336, 344, 354- 
Joinville, J., Sire de, 303, 363. 
Jones, 1., 263, 359. 
Juvenal, 344, 354. 

Kant, L, 356, 

Keysler, J. G., 197, 346 f. 

King, Dr., 154. 

Lady "Jane Grey. See Rowe, N, 
La Fontaine, J. de, 108. 
Lambivell, Sir, 52. 
Lamentation of Mary Magdalen ^ 

40,315- 

Landor, W. S., 356. 

Landscape gardening in Eng- 
land, 265. 

Langhome, J., 270, 359. 



3|nliej: 



373 



Langland, W., xlvi, 65 f., 319 f. 

Latini, Brunetto, 44. 
Latona, 127, 328. 
Launcelot du Lake^ 55, 317. 
Laurel, 148 f., 334. 
Laurence de Premierfait, trans. 

of Boccaccio, 92, 324. 
LaurentiuSf Epitaph on^ 78, 

322. 
Layamon, 74, 321. 
Leo II. (?), Pope, 71. 
Leofric, Earlof Mercia, 84, 323. 
Leojjius, 69, 71, 320. 
Leslie, J., 292 f., 363. 
Le Sueur, E., 272, 362. 
Livy, xii, 130, 141, 329. 
Lloyd, R., 23if., 233 f., 249, 

354, 357- 
Llywark. See Lomarkk. 
Lodge, T., 42, 53. 
Lomarkk, 57, 61, 80, 318. 
Long, Roger, xxxviii, 215, 349. 
Long Life, 76, 321 f. 
Longinus, 309, 312. 
Lorris, G. de, 63. 
Lowth,R., 154, 250, 336,357. 
Lucian, 148. 
Lucretius, xii, xlvi. 
Ludlam, W. and T., 255, 358. 
Lybiui Disconius. See Bel In- 

connUy Le. 
Lydgate, J., xxxiii, xxxv, xlvii ff., 

22, 24 f., 39-43, 49 f-, 

87 ff., 119, 315 f., 323 ff. 
Lyndesay, Sir D., 41, 43, 49, 

119. 
Lyttelton, G., Baron, 149 f., 

154, »65, 334, 339. 



Machiavelli, N., 105, 108, 286. 
Macpherson, J., xviii, 232 f., 

237 ff., 241, 353. 
Maffei, S., 169, 341. 
Mahomet Second. See Sauve, J. 

B. 
Maintenon, Mme. de, 1 74 f., 

342- 
Mallet, P. H., 198 f., 206 f., 

346. 
Mann, SirH.,xxv, 138, 331 f., 

354- 
Manning, R., of Brunn, 49, 

53, 316 f. 
Marcello, B., 260, 332. 
Margaret, Life of St., 53, 62, 

317- 
Marino, G., 120, 326, 
Marivaux, P. C. de C. de, 133, 

330- 

Marlborough, Lady, 139, 332. 

Marlowe, C, 168. 

Martial, 137. 

Mason, W., xvii, xxi, xxiv, 
xxxi, xxxviii, xlv, xlix-lii, 
15^, 155 f-, 160, 164 ff., 
185, 188 ff., 197, 200, 205 
-208, 212-226, 231, 237, 
241-245, 248-251, 255, 
258, 266 f., 269, 275, 
280 ff., 291, 335-340, 344 

-352, 354 f-, 357, 359- 
362. 

Massinissa, 140 f. 

Materialism, 208 ff. 

Mattei, C, 246, 356. 

Mazzola, F., 361. 

Melmoth, W., 156, 337. 



374 



31ni)er 



Menander, 167. 

Merlin, 90. 

Merlin^ Romance of. See Ar- 

thour and Merltn. 
Merveille, Arnauld de, 30. 
Metastasio, P. B., aaa, 352. 
Meun, J. de, 63. 
Middleton, C, xxiv, 138, 154, 

i6if., 171, 331, 333 f., 

337 f., 341 f. 
Milton, J., XX, xxvii, xxix, 

xxxii, XXXV, 28 f., 31, 37, 

39, 4a, 44f , 47, 51, 134, 
137, 201, 221, 236, 260, 

^75, 307, 314, 347 f-, 352, 

355, 363 f. 
Mingotti, R. V., 222, 352. 
Mirror for Magistrates^ Tke^ 

40, 54, "7, "9, 3*5- 
Monstrclet, E. de, 302, 363. 
Montagu, Lady M. W., 156, 

337. 
Montesquieu, C. de Secondat, 
Baron dc, xv, 157 f., 162, 

174, 283, 337 f. 

Montgon, C. A., 163, 338. 

Moore, E., 165, 332 f., 339. 

Morris, L., 81, 322. 

Murphy, A., 208, 348. 

Music in England, 262. 

Mythology, Celtic, 189, 197 f., 
206 f., 215; Germanic, 
197 fF., 206; Grecian, 127, 
189,304; Italian, 147, 149. 

Neville, T., 186, 267, 344. 
NichoUs, N., xviii, xx, 1, liii, 
299, 302, 348. 



Norden, F. L., 159, 337. 
Norwich Cathedral, 277. 
Nugent, Earl, 150, 154, 334, 

336. 
Nut-brown Maid^ The^ 54, 

Oaths of Strasburghj The^ 65, 

319. 
Observation and memory, 21 1 f. 
Occleve. See Hoccleve. 
Odo delle Colonne, 64. 
Olympiadcy L\ 139. 
Orphan, The. Sec Otway, T. 
Osric, Shrine of King, 19, 3 1 1. 
Ossian, xviii, 229, 232, 235 fF., 

241, 248, 250, 258, 353, 

355- 
Otfrid, 59, 3l8f. 
Ottava rima, 43. 
Otway, T., 168, 340. 
Ovid, xii, 90, 101, 122, 327. 
Oivl and the NightingaUj The, 

49, 75 f-, 3^1- 

Paganini, The, 262 ; Signora, 

246, 356 f. 
Painting in England, 263 ; in 

Italy, 360 fF. 
Palgrave, W., 211, 272, 348. 
Paris, The fudgment of 123. 
Parmigiano. See Mazzola, F. 
Parrott, T. M., xxiii f., xxvi, 

liii. 
Pasquier, fi., 3^ f?"-, 53, 7°. 
Passerat, J., 38. 
Patrick! s Purgatory, St., 228. 
Pelloutier, S., 202, 347. 
Percy, T., 67, 320. 



^nntv 



375 



Pergolcse, G. B., 139, 262, 

267, 33 if.. 359- 
Persepolis, 176. 
Peru, Natural History of, 159. 
Pescetti, G,, 139, 332. 
Peter of Blois, 89. 
Peterborough Cathedral, 14, 16- 

20, 278, 312. 
Petrarch, 21, 23, 30, 44 ff., 

48, 63, 91, 137 f. 
Phaer, T., 55, 325. 
Phelps, W. L., xxiiif., xxxii, 

Philosopke mariky Le. See Des- 

touches, P. N. 
Philosophy, Study of, 297 f. 
Pierre de St, Cloit, 53. 
Pilgrimage of the Soul, 91. 
Pilkington, Letitia, 144, 333 f. 
Plato, xiv, xxxix, li, 3 fF., 298, 

309. 356. 

Pliny, 137, 149, 337. 

Ploughman' s Tale, The, 50, 
316. 

Plumptre, Dr., xxxviii. 

Plutarch, 143, 309, 333. 

Pococke, R., 176, 343. 

Poems morale, 54, 63, 317, 319. 

Poetry, Epic, xxix, xxxi, 222, 
364 ; language of, xxxii, 1, 
133 ff., 363; lyric, xxvi, 
xxxi, 199, 221 f. ; subjects 
for, 193 f. 

Pope, A., xiv, xxviii, xxx, xlv, 
28, 97 f., 109, 132, 134, 
153. 328 f., 332, 352, 354, 
363 f. 

Person, R., xxxiv. 



Porte, P. de la, 184, 344. 
Poseidippus, xii. 
Pottinger, R., 231, 354. 
Poussin, N., 361 f. 
Propertius, 137. 
Psalter, Poetical, "jj. 
Pseudo-rhythm us. See Rhyme. 
Puttenham, R. or G., xlv, 
2Sff.,4i, 54, 313 f. 

Queensberry, Lady, 139, 33a. 
Quinault, Mile., 124, 327. 
Quintilian, xxx. 

Racine,J., 125, 128, 175, 328, 

341. 

Radnor, Lord, 176, 342 f. 

Rambald de Vacheres, 72. 

Rapin, N., 38. 

Religion. See Mythology. 

Remedy of Love, The, 41, 315. 

Reni, Guido, 360. 

Rhyme, xliv ff., 39 ff., 57ff., 
73 ff, 8off, 96ff, 317 ff, 
322 ff. } doggerel, xlvf., 26, 
33 ff-> 55) 313 f-; leonine, 
70 f., 320 J octave, 43 } rid- 
ing, 25, 32, 35, 313. See 
also Rime. 

Rhys, D. ap, 50, 82. 

Richard III., 135, 287 ff., 
294 ff. 

Richardson, J., the elder, 357 j 
the younger, 247, 357. 

Ridley, G., 154, 336. 

Rima alia Provenzale, 70. 

Rime couee, 50, 317 ; riche, 70. 

Rinaldod* Aquino, 70. 



376 



31nuej: 



Robert Courthose, 19, 311. 
Robert of Gloucester, 53 f,, 77, 

89, 317. 
Robin Hood, 54. 
Robin of Portingale, 54. 
Roger, abp. of York, 251 flF., 

358. 
Rolle, Mr., 154, 336. 
RoUe, R., of Hampole, 90, 

3H- 
Ronsard, P. de, 28, 39. 
Ros, Sir R,, 42, 316. 
Rosa, Salvator, 361 f. 
Rousseau, J. J., 235, 245, 248, 

259, 270 ff., 354 ff., 358, 

360. 
Rowe, N., 134, 168 f., 340 f, 
Rucellai, G,, 39. 

Sackville, T. See Buckhurst, 

Lord. 
St. Paul's, London, 16, 18, 

3"- 

Sainte-Beuve, C. A., 352 f. 

Salisbury, Dean of, 188. 

Salle, The, 260. 

Sauve, J. B., 123, 327. 

Scalds, 86, 197. 

Scaliger, J. C, xxxvi, 61, 70, 

137, 331- 
Scandinavian studies, xviii, xxxv. 
Scogan, H., 42. 
Scottish Field. Sec Flodden 

Field. 
Sculpture in England, 263. 
Seneca, L. A., 120, 326. 
Sepulchre, St., York, 251 ff., 

357 f. 



Sequentix, 82. 

Sestine, 46, 

Seward, T., 154, 336. 

Shaftesbury, A. A. Cooper, 3d 

Earl of, xxviii, 208 ff. 
Shakespeare, W., xxix, xxxii, 

xxxvf. , I34f., 164, 166 ff., 

175, H4, 3^4, 33o» 34«>» 

352, 354, 364. 
Shaw, T., 177, 343. 
Shenstone, W., 153, 205, 208, 

336, 348. 
Sidney, Sir P., 38. 
Simonides, loi, 325. 
Smart, C, 171, 216, 341. 
Smith, A., xviii, 238, 240. 
Smollett, T., 165. 
Socrates, 4 ff., 142, (Sophronisci 

filius) 356. 
Sonnet, 45. 

Speed, Miss H., xv, xviii. 
Speed, J., 292, 29s f., 363. 
Spence, J., 145 ff., 334. 
Spenser, E., 27, 31, 35-43, 

45-48, 51 ff., 118, 120, 

303, 314, 326. 
Staal de Launay, Baroness de, 

184, 344. 
Statius, xii. 

Steele, Sir R., xxviii, xxx. 
Sterne, L., 230, 234, 354. ^^ 
Stonehewer, R., xxiv, xxxviii, 

178, 208, 232, 235, 248. 
Stowe, J., 74, 295. 
Strabo, xiv. 

Strawberry Hill, 1 76, 227. 
Stricher, The, 59, 
Strode, R., 90, 324. 



Jinttv 



377 



Strophe, 177 f., 343. 
Stukcley, W., 208, 348. 
Sully, Duke of, 183 f., 344. 
Surrey, H. Howard, Earl of, 27, 
29 ff., 4ofF., 44fF., 50-54. 
Swift, Dr., 206, 347. 
Swift, J., xxix. 

Tacitus, 131, 135 f., 158, 
196 f., 206 f., 235, 283, 

Taliesin, 57, 61, 80, 318. 

Tasso^T., XX, 39, 43. 

Taylor, Jeremy, 247. 

Temple, Sir W., 57. 

Temple, W. J., xx fF. 

Tennyson, A., Lord, xv. 

Terence, 167. 

Terza rima, 44. 

Theocritus, 137. 

Theodulus, 57. 

Theology, 171. See also Mate- 
rialism. 

Theophrastus, 149. 

Thibaut, King of Navarre, 43, 
63. 

Thomson, J., 152, 236, 335, 

364. 
Thrale, Mrs., 364. 
Thucydides, 136 f., 143^ 331, 

333. 
Tibullus, xlvi. 
Tickell, T., 153, 335. 
Tolomei, C, 38. 
Torcy, Marquis de, 206, 347. 
Tragedy, Greek, xxix, 168, 

340 f See also Chorus. 
TriamorCf Sir, 51. 



Trissino, 39. 
Tristram, 228, 353. 
TuUy. See Cicero. 
Turpin, Abp., 228, 353. 

Ubaldini, U., 64, 72, 320. 
Uhi sunt? etc., 115, 325. 
Urry,J., 21, 312. 

Vane, Lady, 165, 339, 

Varro, 138, 331. 

Venus de" Medici, 213. 

Versailles, xxxi, 125 ff., 328. 

Verse, Alexandrine, 27 f., 47 f., 
53 ff., 317; blank, 333, 
348 ; heroic, 28, 30, 94 ; 
leonine, 70 f ; ottava rima, 
43 ; sestine, 46 ; sonnet, 45 j 
strophe, 177 f, 343; terza 
rima, 44. See also Caesura, 
Rhyme. 

Versi sciolti, 39. 

Vida, XXX. 

Viginelle, B., 39. 

Villehardouin, G. de, 303, 363. 

Villeneuve, H. de, 34. 

Virgil, xii, xlvi, 90 f., 148 f., 

^63, 344- 
Voltaire, xxi, xxxvi, 124, 173 f., 
179, 230, 269 f., 342 ff., 
349. 354, 358, 360. 

Wace, 60, 319. 

Walafrid Strabo, 62. 

Waller, E., 96. 

Walpole, H., xi-xiv, xxiii, xxv, 
xxxvi, xlix, 144, 146, 149 f., 
154 f., 160, 164 f., 170, 



378 



31nue)c 



2*7, 229, 239, 271, 287 ff., 

294 fF., 331 f., 334, 336 f., 

34if-, 345, 353 f I 359, 

363- 
Warburton, W., 198, 225, 

33^, 35»» 357. 
Warton, J., 142, 144, 333, 

354- 
Warton, T., xlv, 35, 333 f. 
Waterland, D., 145, 171, 334. 
"Welsh literature. Gray studying, 

xviii ; W. poetry, 233. 

West, G., 150, 335. 

West, R., xif., xxiii, xxxii, 

xlixf., 122, 125, 129, 131 f., 

I36f., 139, 151, 156, 326, 

3»9, 331 f-» 335- 
Wharton, T., xiv, xix, xxiv, 

xxxviii, xlix, 141, 143 f., 

150 f,, 156 fF., 160 f., 173 ff., 

177, I79i 183 f., 196, 204, 



226, 228, 230, 232, 247 f., 
*59» a69, 352. 
Whitehead, W., 154, 216, 226, 

249, 336, 35*, 357. 
Wilks, R., 124, 328. 
Wistace. See Wace. 
Wollaston,W.,xlif., lof., 310. 
Wordsworth, W., xix. 
Wormius, O., 58, 318. 
Wren, Sir C, 13, 177, 276, 

310 f. 
Wyatt, Sir T., the elder, 27, 

30, 4off.,44-47, 5off.,54. 

Xenophon, 143, 333. 

York Minster, 240 f., 279, 
355 J St. Sepulchre, 251 ff., 
357 f. 

Zampieri, D., 149, 273, 360 ff. 



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